Fourteen People
by MsLyoness
Summary: Reincarnation is a potential gift and potential curse, but Kujaku will do his best to weave lives together for friends and enemies alike. Sequel to "Four Feathers," and now we see that there are many more than three in Tokyo: heroes, villains, and victims, all of them unaware of who they really are. The character filter reflects the latest chapter.
1. Prologue: The Bhagavaana

**Fourteen People**

_Reincarnation is a potential gift and potential curse, but Kujaku will do his best to weave lives together for friends and enemies alike. Sequel to "Four Feathers," and now we see that there are many more than three in Tokyo: heroes, villains, and victims, all of them unaware of who they really are._

(Author's Note: I do not own "RG Veda," of course. This was purely for my own and hopefully your amusement, I get nothing monetary out of it.

I have edited "Four Feathers" more than a little. I would recommend taking a look at it, even if you read it earlier, because a few things in this fic will make more sense if you read the new version. You can get by without it, but still. Also, _please _visit my deviantART page [check my profile for the address] to see the cover at a decent size. This site's image display size is the worst I've ever seen. I put a lot of work into the cover, and you can't see any detail.

Huge, _huge _thanks to my beta, the awesome Nalahime! Everybody needs a beta like her, one who can pick up on plot and canon contradictions in addition to typos and such.

**Edit 9-26-15: **Yeah, this prologue and a couple other chapters suck. Good thing I'm working on methodically redrafting all my "RG Veda" work, so eventually this will be hopefully improved. Go ahead, point those problems out! Do it for the entire fic! It'd be immensely helpful.)

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**Prologue: The Bhagavaana**

Kujaku has just killed himself, ending the life that was never particularly happy, but it was particularly important. He's done so much for Tenkai, but his role is finally ended. And his final act might have been the most important thing he ever did.

Suicide is an interesting thing, he thinks as his soul flies upwards. It can be done for selfish reasons, to get back at someone else. It can be done out of despair, out of the conviction that nothing will ever change, or may even get worse. It can be done out of self-defense, to prevent oneself from falling into sadistic and predatory hands. And very rarely, it can be done as it was here: as a self-sacrifice, this time a price to pay so that another may come back to the plane of the living.

Ashura is awake, alive, and this makes it so Kujaku has no real regrets. The _sweet _Ashura, the child Ashura, not the true God of War. But then, if the child was in charge for the majority of his life, is he not a true Ashura too? Kujaku can guarantee that he wouldn't have been fond of the violent Ashura, come to love him even. Well, now the child Ashura will hold sway, because Kujaku believes Yasha's promise.

Yasha will not allow Evil Ashura to come back, and if anyone could do that, it would be the powerful force of conviction, love, and skill that is Lord Yasha the Guardian Warrior. Oh, dear Yasha… Kujaku very much wishes that he hadn't had to leave him. They fell into a lover's relationship by the end, and it made Kujaku wish there were another way to bring Ashura back. But no, he knew all along that this is the only possible method. And maybe Yasha never really loved Kujaku, because he never said anything to that effect, always looking back to his frozen son.

The stargazer holds up a translucent hand, marveling that the soul keeps its form even when out of the body. But after all, how are you to recognize friends and family in the afterlife if you can't see them?

But odd, he sees no gates of the Land of the Dead, no Kisshouten coming to embrace him (or scream at him like their father?). He has the sense that he's in limbo, for how long he has no idea. It feels like seconds, but it could have been hundreds of years. Time seems to have no meaning, and just when he's starting to wonder where he is –

Light.

All-encompassing, warm, powerful light, and once both loving and aloof, and he suddenly has the sense that there's another presence, no, a _thousand _other presences, all rolled into one. So this… this must be the Bhagavaana, the creators and the lawgivers, the ones who set the stars in the heavens and spun the wheel of Fate. The enlightened ones, the beings who transcend time and space, who were always there and only arrived a minute ago, male and female, old and young. They never interacted with Tenkai after they created it, but they exist, though gods tend not to pay them much attention.

"**Son of Tentei and Sonsei… Kujaku the sin.**

"**Kujaku the stargazer.**

"**Kujaku the sacrifice.**

" '**Ku the playboy.' "**

The voice isn't so much a _voice_, more like the knowledge that there are words, that someone or something is speaking to him and he can understand it. And feelings, solemn and sad for the first three sentences, amused for the last one. He finds himself grinning nervously, and answers, "Um, present."

"**You have changed Fate. You have built another Tenkai. You have sent the soul of another back to the plane of the living, a selfless act that few would have chosen. Tell us why, to all of those."**

"Well, uh, because I felt _someone _had to try to fight Tenkai's untimely destruction," he answers nervously. "And I just – I mean, an unwanted child, one destined to suffer before he became the God of War, it just tugged at my heartstrings and hit pretty close to home. I wanted to see if it could be done, to break a cycle of death, to see that we can live our own lives."

He then thinks that maybe they're setting him up to go to Hell for that audacity, so he explains, "I mean, I was already a sinner! I was already marked with the sign of evil. So I really had nothing to lose. And so much to possibly gain, so I guess in the end I was just as selfish as Lord Ashura."

"**And the rebuilding?"**

"I didn't want to see it all fall apart," he admits with a sigh. "I mean, Ashura defeated his destiny, and if angry Ryuu cousins and horrified Karura tribe members swooped in and began another war, Tenkai would've been torn apart again, because Taishakuten would never give up the throne. It would've all been for naught if there was another rebellion! And it worked, no one else had to die! Well, except me I mean," he amends matter-of-factly.

"**It might interest you to know that General Zouchouten of the Southland walked off a ledge soon after Ashura awakened. Care to explain why?"**

"Oh. Geez. See, guys, look, I didn't know he would do that! All I told him was Lady Karura might've loved him too, and that they would find each other again if he erased all his bad karma. I'm a stargazer, I could tell it would happen! It will, won't it?" Kujaku asks guiltily.

What if he was wrong? What if he misread the stars? What if that was it, sorry Zouchouten, you head to Hell for what you did under Taishakuten, she hangs out in the Land of the Dead with her sister?

"**Before we answer that, first tell us why you brought Ashura out of limbo and back into Tenkai. A willing blood sacrifice like that hasn't been performed for sixteen thousand years, and is not likely to ever be performed again."**

"For Yasha," Kujaku says with simple conviction. "For Ashura. So they could be happy, because I loved them both so desperately. I saw a lot of myself in that child, and for what he did, defeating the side of himself that would've killed everyone and everything, I thought he deserved happiness.

"And Yasha… even if I'd miraculously hated Ashura, I would've done it to make Yasha truly live again too. I love him. And since Ashura was the person _he_ loved most in the world, his adopted child, I wanted to give him a gift. That's why, Bhagavaana. I did it for love, both romantic and friendship…y."

He feels a smile then from the light, and an almost fond, **"****Just as you told Zouchouten: you cannot stop the wheel of Fate from turning, but it does not crush Love into nothing. So many have been denied it, lost it through their actions, never realized it was there. On a different plane, we have decided to let them try again."**

Kujaku thinks for a moment, a sense of approaching destiny thick around him, and finally asks, "And you tell me this because?"

"**Because to you we give the task of remembering, starting over as well but with the knowledge of this plane. If you succeed in this… you will see Yasha again. This is both a gift and a curse to you, in thanks and also in punishment for what you did. Find them."**

People flash across his mind's eye in a lightning-fast succession, some he knows very well, some he knows only slightly, some he only knows of. Twelve of them, five men and seven women. And then, so far away he can barely see him, a man with long dark hair, facing away.

"**Fourteen people, including you and Yasha. Make the other twelve realize. When they have all awakened, made their choices, found each other… that is when you will find the man you love."**

So Kujaku nods and replies, "Yes."

And suddenly there's only darkness, liquid warmth, and a muffled murmur in a soothing female voice, accompanied by a soothing male voice. He's tiny, his eyes closed, and he's bent into a fetal position with something attached to his navel.

He sighs inside his head, and thinks resignedly, _They weren't kidding when they said I'd be starting over. Oh, teething is going to __suck__._

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(AN: I'll confess to you my reason for writing "Four Feathers," and this one too: the ending of "RG Veda" is one of the worst endings to any piece of fiction I've encountered – and I love to read and watch things. Needless angst, needless slaughter, needless character flip-flops, needless contradictions in the plot, and needless forgiveness of the sadist who so happily murdered so many innocents, at least two of which had nothing to do with his promise.

Only _one_ of the characters I liked [Yasha] got what was a decent – not even truly happy – ending, and I had no less than twenty-one. That's an abysmal track record, CLAMP. Oh sure, Zouchouten and Tenou are _alive_, but guess what? The women they loved are _dead_.

The Bhagavaana ["holy" in Sanskrit] are an invention of mine, duh. I wondered, "Who created Tenkai and decides what constitutes an unforgivable sin? Who judges the dead, gods and humans alike?" Don't worry, that was the only time you actually see them, and they're mentioned infrequently. I went with "the Land of the Dead" for the nice afterlife, as in the manga "Heaven" is also used for Tenkai itself.

Kujaku is the thread that binds different installments of this story together, as each one has different protagonists. But he _does _play an important role each time, and gets his own section where he's a main character as well. The format is like this: a few Tenkai scenes, and then the main part of the story in Tokyo, split into two big chapters for each couple. The Tokyo scenes are chronological, the Tenkai scenes aren't. Sorry if this is confusing.)


	2. Ruins

**Chapter One: Ruins**

(Tenkai)

"Unnh…"

The first thing he hears, when he wakes, is the scream of carrion birds. No bellowed orders, no cries of pain, no ring of steel on steel or thundering of hooves. Is the battle over? Did they win, or did they lose?

The king of Kusumapura opens his eyes with great difficulty, and he sees a cloudy sky with wheeling vultures and crows. He's on his back, one of his arms bent under him, and with a cold weight on his legs, a very heavy one. He turns his head to the right, and sees the back of a dead horse, not his. He turns his head to the left, and sees a man's body, one of his guards.

He remembers full well what happened to bring him to this. His defiance of the usurper Taishakuten, the new god-king's troops encircling his city, a pitched battle more ferocious than Kumaraten could have ever imagined, and a group of enemy soldiers breaking through his personal guard. One of them hit him on the head with the hilt of his sword, and Kumaraten blacked out, fully expecting to die.

But he's alive. So, his head pounding, he looks down the length of his body to see another dead guard on the lower half of it. Poor man. Yet Kumaraten can do nothing for him now, save gently move him away and stand up with weary legs.

That knock to the head saved his life, he thinks distantly, gazing out at the carnage. Taishakuten's forces undoubtedly thought he was dead, and lost all interest in him. A blessing in disguise –

No. Not a blessing! Everyone's _dead! _He sees the bodies of women, children, infants even, smells the stench of charred flesh and can tell the city fell. Smoke and cinders drift from the cavern mouth, and no doubt the Flower Capital is aflame. If there are any survivors, they aren't down there.

For a moment he just falls to his knees and stays there, choking out sobs and wondering if he should end it too. To be the last of his people, a king who failed to save even one of them, is like a knife through his heart, and he wishes he didn't have to see this destruction. And for what? For daring to raise his voice against a murdering monster. All he did was act as the rest of them _should _have acted, standing up to a tyrant, because if everyone else had banded together, Taishakuten might have fallen.

But still… this is Kumaraten's fault. He should've listened to his advisors and swallowed his anger down, for the good of his people. He would've hated it, but he should have stood down to protect his tribe. After all, he's their king, and a king must always think of his subjects first. And now, this king has cost them their lives.

A rumble of thunder comes from the sky, and he looks up to see the tail end of lightning. Oh, thunder. How appropriate, that it watches over this field of death. After all, the god that bears its name as his title was the reason for this genocide.

Kumaraten casts his gaze to the right because he has to cast it somewhere, and there sees a dead child. A boy, no more than five in human years, dead because of his ruler. Kumaraten finds himself walking forwards as if in a trance, kneeling next to him, and gently picking him up as lightning flashes again, and the rain begins to pour down. At least that will put out the fires that still burn on this battlefield, but he's not paying much attention to that.

"Was I wrong?" he asks the child in a cracked, broken whisper. He cradles him to his chest and goes on, with tears coming from his eyes, "Should I have just sat quietly and watched as that murderer, Taishakuten, became the new god-king?!"

The last words were nearly a howl of grief, startling to his ears, and he lowers his voice (as if it matters to the dead), and laments, "I didn't mean for things to go this way…"

And then –

The Old One. The longest-living member of the tribe, bestowed that title out of reverence, is coming toward him on his arms, aided by a staff. His legs are gone, and it's a miracle he's alive at all. Poor, dear Old One, a friend and a teacher, a man who obeyed his king without question, and like Kumaraten didn't believe that Lord Ashura could fall.

"Old One!" Kumaraten bursts out, laying the child back on the ground, and the other man has barely acknowledged him before he goes on, "Old One, you're all that's left of my tribe. At least _you _haven't abandoned me," he mutters, letting a little bit of selfishness run free.

"Yes, sire, but just barely. They took my legs, and I won't last long in this state," the ancient man sighs, then before Kumaraten can take more than two steps towards him, he begins a spell the king recognizes but has never seen used. A demon summoning spell! Why does the Old One –?

To transfer his soul into its body, as he so matter-of-factly explains. As lightning strikes in a pillar, Kumaraten throws his hand over his face to ward off the light, scared but strangely grateful as well. Because now, at least, one person will stay with him, and he won't be quite as guilty. He needs the Old One, desperately, and so he lets no expression of distaste cross his face at his new form: a bulb of a lower body, floating mere centimeters off the ground, and two extra pairs of arms.

They stare at each other, then Kumaraten bows his head and lets the tears fall again. He's the second king to lose his tribe to Taishakuten, but he will not be the last, by far. And it's like he hears his slaughtered people's voices in his mind, urging him to live, so that –

"Sire," the Old One's urgent voice breaks into his thoughts, "there's a woman… I think she's still alive."

Kumaraten follows his finger with his eyes, and yes, there _is _a woman there. And she still has an aura, so she indeed lives. He sees no wounds, no blood on her at all, and he wonders why not. Did she just wander onto the battlefield and collapse, or something?

"Looks like a survivor from the Ashura," the Old One speculates as Kumaraten races over to her. "How did she end up this far out on the battlefield?"

She doesn't _look _like an Ashura, not at all. Her skin is brown, her hair is a marvelous, metallic gold, and he's willing to bet that her eyes _aren't_ gold. But her clothes definitely mark her as not only Ashura, but a priestess of the tribe. How odd, since another priestess was the reason they fell. Kumaraten is perplexed to see her here, so far to the west and after such slaughter besides.

But she is a living being, and suddenly he feels a keen, desperate, almost razor-sharp need to save her. If she stays out here unconscious, she may find herself attacked by not only crows and vultures, but wolves, lions, or demons as well. If he can help this _one person_, if he saves her life, then there is another tiny speck of light in the crushing darkness of what Taishakuten has wrought. So Kumaraten crosses to her, lifting her into his lap as something falls from her hands.

He pays it little attention now, and says firmly, "Old One, I'm going to save this one."

"Yes, my king," the ancient advisor says fervently, as Kumaraten gathers the woman into his arms, absentmindedly picking up a fine sword. The Old One continues, "It will be useful to have a companion, as we lick our wounds in the city's remains."

"Surely some if it's left intact," Kumaraten mutters, starting to walk towards the cavern entrance as the Old One hastens to catch up. "If we're lucky, enough of Kusumapura is left for us to live there. It's – it _was _such a metropolis, there has to be at least one part that wasn't destroyed."

And he's right. His palace by the spring was decimated, but one of the ceremonial centers is largely undemolished. There are bodies everywhere, and he wearily realizes that to bury or cremate all of them would take years. So he'll just have to lay as many to rest as he can, and not seek out the remainder. He'll cremate those he sees as he walks around for supplies and such, but it's impossible to give them all the peace they deserve.

The woman is laid onto a dais, one with fine steps and a paved aisle leading to it, and miraculously the lamps are still there and not smashed. It's only when he covers her with his cape that he really looks at the sword, with a curious expression on his face. What is this? It doesn't look like something a woman like her could wield –

He suddenly realizes just what he's looking at, and his mouth drops open in shock. This is that most powerful of weapons, far more magical than any other in Tenkai! This is the fabled Shura Sword, the one Lord Ashura did not possess at the battle that killed him, it was remarked upon by many observers. It's a sword far stronger than Taishakuten's blade, or that of any of the Four Gods, old or current. Its might is unparalleled; they say it was forged with the first Lord Ashura's blood so that the king or queen can thus wreak unimaginable destruction.

…Yes. Yes, a powerful, fearsome weapon… more so than Taishakuten's…

Vengeance rears its head then, and Kumaraten's eyes practically blaze with maniacal hope. If this thing fell into his lap, he'd be a fool not to use it! His mind, shaken from the carnage and the guilt, cracks a little at the sudden light at the end of the tunnel. With this weapon in hand, he will visit his retribution upon the man who destroyed Kusumapura, and damn it all, it won't be soon enough. Taishakuten and all his enforcers will _pay,_ and while it won't bring Kumaraten's people back, it will avenge them in a glorious manner.

He reaches out a hand to grasp the Shura Sword, and that's when it glows with a light so bright he cringes back. But that's not all it does, not at all.

Thick, cabled masses of sinew/stone/_something _erupt from it, coiling and writhing into higher and higher pillars, arches, ropes, and waves. The sword itself floats, until finally a macabre sculpture encases it in webbing, like some sort of freakish cocoon. Okay, it obviously doesn't want him touching it, that's easy to see.

A sudden cry from in front of him makes him look down to see the woman staring at it, then whipping around to stare at him. And her eyes are not gold, no. They're green, deep emerald green, big and beautiful and tearful, scared and confused to boot.

"It's all right," he tells her softly and soothingly. "You're safe, I won't hurt you. You were unconscious on the battlefield, and now you're in the ruins of Kusumapura. I'm Kumaraten, the king of the city. Or at least, what used to be a city," he mutters in sickened grief.

Tears slip down her cheeks, and she quavers, "How many survived besides you?"

"Only one that I know of," he admits wearily, the gestures to the sword and asks, "Why did it do that? I wanted to use if for revenge on that bastard Taishakuten."

She says nothing for a long, long time, just looks at him with a heartbreaking expression on her face. Finally she tells him, "My name is Kahra, Lord Kumaraten. I was an Ashura priestess, and that's the Shura Sword. You tell me you want to use it for revenge, yes?"

"Yes," he tells her firmly, almost manically. "Yes, I want to avenge my exterminated people. Do you know how I can get to it now?"

She takes a deep breath, and she tells him a fantastic tale, all about how there will be an eclipse in three hundred years, and if he offers the new Lord Ashura's blood, he can revive that sword and wreak his vengeance. Three hundred years?! Well, it's better than nothing, he decides as she casts her eyes to the ground and says no more. A sacrifice seems a bit bloodthirsty, but so much innocent blood has been spilled already, what's one more life? He _needs _to deliver retribution upon the god-king, and so he decides that he will wait until that day comes.

He holds out a hand to her, and he says, "Thank you, Kahra, for letting me know all that. Will you stay until then, please?"

She nods fervently, takes his hand, and replies, "That's why I'm here, Kumaraten, that's why I'm here."

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(Two hundred and ninety-eight years later)

Only two more years to go, Kumaraten thinks as he stares fixedly at the sword. The past centuries have been long, lonely, and bitter, but he has endured them for the future. Soon, he will have the power to defeat his mortal enemy, and everything will be all right again.

He's pale now, paler than he was on the day he found Kahra, because he hasn't seen the sun for centuries. Food is brought by the human shepherds who inhabit the ruins outside; he's long ago worked out an arrangement that they leave supplies and he gives them payment. Because who needs the treasury now? Most of it was carried away by the god-king's army, but there were hidden vaults that they didn't know about that hold more than enough.

_Oh, my city of riches_, he thinks as he gazes out at what's left of it. _I'll make you like you were before: the jewel of the Westland._

The former Koumokuten loved Kusumapura, spending weeks at a time there and enjoying the many wonders it held… and her successor burned it, with its citizens trapped inside. Kumaraten rather hopes that when the Shura Sword awakens, he will meet that Koumokuten. And he will not simply kill him, oh no. He will keep him alive long enough to make him feel the pain of immolation that so many of Kumaraten's people felt, and he will yell exactly who he is into that bastard's ugly face.

And then? He has a vague idea of handing the throne to Kisshouten, the rightful heir who would rule wisely and with mercy. His ambitions don't extend to _being _the god-king, just killing him. All Kumaraten wants is for his line to continue, for Kusumapura to be what it once was.

It was a multi-tribal metropolis, a draw for people from all over. Of course the Kumaraten tribe had the majority, but there were many other nations, all of which lived in peace with each other. And the flowers were everywhere, all the time, filling the air with their scent and petals. Well, the flowers will bloom again, he'll import them and make sure to hire gardeners who will tend to them with the utmost care and respect. And when the flowers bloom… Kahra will truly smile, surely!

Kahra, oh Kahra… beautiful companion, sweet confidante, kind shorer-up of his soul when the going gets hard. He's found himself quite attracted to her, in love with her even, but he doesn't have time for that right now. Now is taken up with preparation for the sword's awakening, but when all that's done, _then _he will take her in his arms and confess, "More than anything else, I wanted you to be at my side for this rebirth of my city."

Even as he thinks this, she is crying in her room. She's living a lie, and the other two are hanging their hopes on a dream that will evaporate once the child comes. He will, she knows this, because Lord Ashura made it very clear that he would. Why else would he risk sending his Shura Sword away on the eve of a battle, why else would he revive her if not to give her this sacred task?

She's dead, but she walks and talks and loves. She killed herself! She slit her wrists and bled out into a bathtub not an hour after Shashi left for Taishakuten, but Lord Ashura broke the door down, and with his power grasped the last, tiny shred of her life force and magnified it. But it's a temporary fix, because such magic can only hold for so long. Her wounds are healed, but when she gives her nephew her Ashura seal, his father told her that she will die.

He didn't mention that she would've died anyway when that seal came off, or that it would help unleash the God of War, of fiery, ultimate destruction. No, his loyal priestess, his friend, was just one more sacrificed person who trusted him, thrown to the wolves of Fate without even an apology. That was Lord Ashura: in the sight of the world a noble, kind, _good _man, but behind that squeaky-clean disguise one of the most selfish and evil beings in the history of Tenkai, who was willing to make the countless innocents he'd vowed to protect suffer and die for what he wanted.

But she knows nothing of this. All she knows is that her days are numbered, and that it wasn't supposed to be like this. There wasn't supposed to be a lonely king here, there was supposed to be a thriving city where she could easily hide. That lonely king wasn't supposed to have looked at her with compassion and grief in his eyes, and treated her well, to the point she fell in love with him. No, this distraction wasn't intended to happen, but a lot of things weren't intended to happen and did anyway.

_Oh, Kumaraten, _she weeps into her hands, _I was lonely, and frightened, and exhausted, and you saved me and were kind to me. I know you don't love me in return, but I wish you would, because there's still two years to go and we would at least have some happiness before it's torn down. I'm sorry I lied to you, but I wanted to make you happy in some small way._

So she is selfish too. She fed him falsehoods and he believed it, all because she wanted to be with him. But all he does is focus his attention on preparing for the eclipse, training both physically and magically, even going so far as to write and memorize his speeches to Taishakuten, and the world after he's defeated him.

She wants to say, "Kumaraten, even if you have the Shura Sword and unleash its full power, how can one man defeat the entire Imperial Army to get to Taishakuten?" But she doesn't, because his vendetta gives him a purpose, keeps him from going completely mad with grief.

Yet his mind is becoming more and more of a ruin as time goes on. He obsesses, schemes in his head, monologues to her and the Old One about the glory of old and how he will make Taishakuten pay, and practices with sword after sword after sword at shadows, because there are no warriors to practice on. And she did this to him, her false hope contributed to this madness and violent outbursts at their surroundings. If she had never lied, would he have adjusted and moved on in some way?

That night after dinner, she follows him as he walks to a window and stares out at the city's remains. Before she can speak, he turns to her and says abruptly, "It's just occurred to me that I should be focusing on rebuilding my tribe _now_, just in case it goes wrong at Zenmi."

As she blinks in surprise, he casts an arm out over the cavern and goes on with much solemnity, "I need a woman, Kahra. A woman to bear my children, a strong woman who can handle bearing as many as possible, for as long as possible."

She doesn't immediately get what he's driving at, just thinks with horror that he's going to go get a woman from outside, maybe from the shepherds even, and what would that do to _her? _It would kill her, watching Kumaraten smile at someone else, watching that someone else get pregnant and birth his offspring. No! No, time for another lie, time to think quickly, and she realizes that she can _fake _a pregnancy at the appropriate time, mere months before Ashura comes.

"Kumaraten…" She takes a deep breath, and then tells him, "You know, _I'm _a woman."

For a moment he just stares at her, then he grabs her shoulders with a manic look on his face, and practically hisses, "Yes. Yes, you understand me! You're already here, I don't have to worry about you becoming afraid and leaving me, and you said you're good with children. Come, Kahra," he orders, grabbing her wrist and turning away, pulling her towards his bedchamber.

So here is what she wanted, maybe not like this, but still. She wanted him, and now she's going to get him in a way she's never gotten anything before. Or maybe he's going to have her, but whichever way you say it, they're going to lie together and that's that. No marriage like she'd once dreamed of as a little girl, and maybe he won't be very gentle, but it's _him_, dammit, and that will make it special even if it hurts.

"Thank you," she tells him as clothes are shed, and as he looks at her oddly she flushes and lamely mumbles, "For – for asking instead of just taking, like it would have been easy to do."

"I won't try to hurt you," he tells her solemnly, even as he presses her down upon the mattress. "But it might hurt anyway."

She's a virgin, and he hasn't lain with a woman for almost three hundred years. But he makes it as good as he can, and that's more than enough. She most definitely finds her pleasure, and once it ends she holds him tight to her, hoping to hear a soft, "I love you, Kahra."

But no. No, all he does is fall asleep and dream of reams of children, because that's the most important thing. There will be time for a confession later, he tells himself as he plays with triplets in his subconscious, and right now he _must _focus on revenge and rebuilding. That's his purpose, to avenge his tribe, and while he'd _like _to just put that on the backburner and spend all his time cuddling with Kahra, duty and vengeance have a stronger hold on him than love, at this point in time at least.

Such is the mind of a god who has seen horror, twisted and unaware of what matters the most.

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(Two years later)

The sword is calling.

Ashura's here, and Kahra knew even as Kumaraten imprisoned him that he'd break that sphere and make his way to the Shura Sword. Now is the denouement of three hundred years of lies, and she wants to fall to the ground and scream out her sorrow and regret. But no, she can't do that, because the pull of the sword is like a physical force, and even if she were to grab something and hang on it would draw her to it.

So she's making her way closer, half-running, half-stumbling, as Kumaraten frantically calls for her to come back, the worry in his voice bringing tears to her eyes. It sounds as if he cares for her, and coupled with the way he hugged and stared at her mere minutes go, it's enough for her thoughts to race to the conclusion, _He loves me, he loves me, he loves me._

Maybe he does and maybe he doesn't, but the thing is… _it doesn't matter_. Only the seal matters now, although she wishes that were not so.

"Kahra! Wait!" Kumaraten frantically cries, as she wraps her arms around her torso to stave off the _yanking _sensation. It feels like there are a thousand hooks in her insides, and it hurts like nothing else. But on she goes, on, on –

"Kahra!"

A hand clasps her upper arm from behind in a desperate grip, and that's when they both look up and realize where they are, and what they're seeing. Ashura stands on the steps below the cocoon, electricity crackling around him and a dark aura manifesting. Kahra is confused, because that's not Ashura's aura! It's like Lord Ashura's when he was angry, except a hundred times stronger. Well, perhaps he's just manifesting his potential? Dark it may be, but the seal tells her to give to him, _now_.

"You… how did you get out?" Kumaraten grits, still keeping a hand on Kahra's arm.

"The Shura Sword has called to me," an older and chilling voice answers. "I can't ignore its bidding. I must reunite with my other half."

"What?!" Kumaraten nearly yelps, and Kahra's heart sinks. "Do you mean the seal is going to break?!"

He turns to her and demands, "What about the procedure you spoke of?! The eclipse of the moon and Lord Ashura's blood?! Kahra, answer me!" he bellows, and she can hear the betrayed panic in his voice. Poor Kumaraten, he's suddenly realizing that he's been wrong all along, and she has to imagine he's going to be homicidal when he learns the full truth.

Before she can make herself reply, Ashura intones, "The seal will break neither by eclipse nor by Lord Ashura's blood. The Shura Sword is half of Lord Ashura himself, and none but the king can release it from its slumber."

Kahra watches Kumaraten's face go paler and paler as her nephew speaks, and now it's practically bone-white in a mixture of fury, horror, and disbelieving confusion. The time for confession is now, and she manages a sad, "Forgive me, my sire… I've deceived you for three hundred years."

_So long, I lied to you…_

"Kahra," he chokes out, his left hand now on her right shoulder, but she confirms, "Even if you offer Lord Ashura's blood, the Shura Sword will not respond. The procedure I explained to you was all a lie. I knew you wanted power to defeat Taishakuten, so I lied to you."

He simply stares at her for a moment with a shell-shocked look in his eyes, then he says quietly, "I don't understand… Why?"

She guesses what he's thinking, which is easier than making herself respond. He's probably mentally raging, _You lying little bitch, why did you do this to me?! Why the __hell__ did you lead me on like that, make me think I could do what I wanted to do? You manipulative wench, I can't believe you pulled the wool over my eyes, for some twisted jolly._

She takes a deep breath, looks at a space over his right shoulder, and makes herself say, "Because…" _Because I wanted to be with you. I was too lonely to wait by myself. _

But the words won't come, so instead she starts at the beginning and explains, "At the time of the Holy War, there was a betrayal. Even though I knew it would happen, I did nothing to stop it…"

And so she explains it all, from her attempted suicide to the fact that she will die as soon as that seal comes off, with tears in her eyes and feeling like scum when he desperately asks about the baby. But no, one more lie, no child in her dead womb and no hope of him forgiving her, she's certain. It's too late even if he did, because she must die and he will live, probably a broken man gone completely insane due to the shock that he can't avenge his people, but there's nothing she can do.

"There was never any baby to begin with," she sniffles, tears pouring down her cheeks and her body shaking. "After all, how can the dead give birth to life? But in a way, there _is _a baby in my body. It's ever going to be born, but it's a baby that was conceived by my love," she says wretchedly, turning away because she can no longer face him.

"Hate me if you must, but I'm not lying when I say it's because I loved you, and wanted to remain by your side, that I wished for this baby."

And then, in the bravest move of her life, she reaches up for the seal. Oh no, she does not want to do this, in the worst way. She wants to leave this seal in, grab Kumaraten and flee into the depths of the earth so they can be together, but she can't. Her role in this epic is to provide the means of awakening that demon sword, and even if she were to be a coward and shirk it, Ashura would hunt her down. She knows this, she knows it by the way he's looking at her, as if to say, "Enough maudlin reminiscing. Give me what I need."

So she tells the two of them, "But the miracle of life is over now. My life was only meant to last until the Shura Sword was revived. And the baby must disappear along with me. My lord, it is now time that I free the Shura Sword and my soul as well."

And with that she pries the ruby seal from her flesh, pain spiking through her and blood flowing freely, the last time her blood will ever flow.

"KAHRA! _STOP!_" Kumaraten downright screams, and she can hear him rushing towards her as she breathes, "Lord Ashura… I return to you… your sword."

As the seal floats on its own accord over to Ashura, her vision starts to darken as she thinks, _It was because I wanted to stay with you that I told all those lies, about the seal that was supposedly unbreakable. About the baby that you now know will never be born. But there is one thing that is true… no matter what else I ever said, I truly do love you._

She collapses then, just as strong arms catch her. Before her eyes roll up and close forever, she sees Kumaraten leaning over her, desperate and distraught and looking like – like he's just lost the love of his…

That thought is never finished. She dies then, fully and belatedly, her body going limp in his arms and her eyes closing, an expression of regretful sadness on her face and bloody tears leaking from those eyes. She's gone, no longer on this plane of existence, and though he knows it he can't stop a despairing "Kahra!" from escaping his lips.

No answer. No aura. No life. No Kahra, just a beautiful body with a bloody crater in her forehead, and he crashes to his knees in grief. No, NO! Please, let this be some horrible nightmare, let him wake up now and find her at the side of his bed again, alive and actually pregnant. Oh hell, forget the pregnancy, just let her still be here! He'll tell her _everything_, he'll give up his vendetta even, if Kahra will be with him again.

But this is no dream, he knows that as electricity crackles all around and the psychic reverberations blast his mind and body. This is reality, this is Ashura claiming his sword, and this is Kahra dead in Kumaraten's arms. He can't think now, this trauma is too much, and so all he does in kneel there and hold her for long minutes.

Finally he comes to, noting the shaking of the cavern and the dangerous collapse of some of the ceiling. Ah yes, of course this would happen, with an awakened Shura Sword in the hands of its new owner. Ashura is leaving, but that doesn't matter. He can get torn apart by Taishakuten's bare hands for all Kumaraten cares anymore. He's sobbing and screaming something about his mother, but Kumaraten pays him no heed, because what's the point of paying attention to Ashura when Kahra is gone?

For all the deafening noise and falling rocks, there's a sort of… peace. Kumaraten has made up his mind what to do, and it's almost liberating, living for himself and not his dead tribe anymore. If the revenge was a dream all along, can't he be justified in doing what _he_ wants? And there is now only one thing he wants that he can have, since he cannot raise her from the dead.

He looks down at her body, and asks her almost pleasantly, "Do you hear that, Kahra? The ground is rumbling… it's the first cry of Lord Ashura. The earth is responding to the revival of the Shura Sword."

He holds her close, looking out at the shaking ruins, and continues with a tiny smile, "You confessed your lies, so now I must confess my own. I've never told you this before, but…" And then, with heartbreaking and almost vulnerable honesty, he tells her, "I wanted to see you smile. I wanted to fill Kusumapura with flowers again. And I, too, wanted to be with you forever. That's the truth."

Too late, too late. Why didn't he tell her sooner, why didn't he say those three world-changing little words at one of the many, many post-coital times? Or at a meal, or walking around, or even when he first realized what it was? Hindsight is perfect, and all he can do is wait to see her in the Land of the Dead, which is coming soon. Because after all –

"Sire!" the Old One calls, frantically making his way towards his kneeling king. "Lord Kumaraten! Get out of there! Sire! You can make it!" he screams frantically, poor desperate man.

But Kumaraten looks at him with an expression that says it all: a calm, small smile that silently tells him, "No. I have nothing left, not when she's gone. It's over, my friend, and this is where I die, with Kahra in my arms. It can't end in any other way."

The rocks block the Old One from view then, but Kumaraten knows that he's staying too. He wishes he could tell him, "Thank you, Old One. You were the last remaining member of the Kumaraten tribe, and your loyalty and love helped keep me going. I'm sorry you're going to die, but I understand why, and I'm grateful."

Kumaraten hugs Kahra as tightly as he can, and thinks, _Well, Kahra… I failed, in everything. In making you smile, in killing Taishakuten, in even telling you I love you before it was too late. So at the end of the last traces of Kusumapura, at the end of the false life you never should have had, it's fitting that it be my end too. I love you, and when I see you on the other side, I swear I'll make everything up to you._

And with a thundering, ear-splitting roar, the cavern collapses completely.

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(AN: I've heard it postulated that there was some rape involved in Kahra's "pregnancy," but I have a hard time believing she would love Kumaraten if he did that to her. Then again, CLAMP had Kisshouten love a man who married her by force and helped kill her beloved father, so they clearly have a much more submissive and "Domestic abuse is ROMANTIC!" line of thought than I do on issues like that.

Lord Ashura _wanting _Ashura to have the Shura Sword, and thus awaken his full power, flies in the face of his late-canon bargain with Taishakuten, and Taishakuten's late-canon supposed reason for marrying Shashi [not to mention how Mr. Selfish has the sword in that final fight, sheesh]. Just so you all know that, because the majority of this fandom seems to completely swallow the contradictory ending.

The next chapter will bring this fic up to an M rating. Yay. It won't be the only one; I'm sure some of you will be pleased by that. Please review, and I want _any _feedback, not just good feedback like a lot of people do.)


	3. Flowers on the Grave

**Chapter Two: Flowers on the Grave**

(AN: In case you missed it in the last author's note, this chapter contains a lemon. It happens to be one of the shortest and least-involved in the fic, I'm sorry to say.)

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(Minato-ku, Tokyo, in early April 2010)

"Mrs. Ohkawa," the mortician murmurs in a calm, non-combative tone, "I completely understand that you're still in shock. Who wouldn't be? But I really do think a closed casket would be more… appropriate."

The widow sniffles and dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief, sighing, "Honda hated tiny enclosed spaces, Mr. Haka. It'll be bad enough that he'll be in a box anyway."

Haka Kumaraten is nonplussed. The man's _dead_,he can't care even if he's folded up and stuffed into a sack. Still, he's used to relatives clinging to the idea that the body can somehow be aware of what's happening to it. You can tell them all the scientific evidence that nope, it's just meat now and your hubby's gone to join the choir eternal, but they persist in thinking that the body still knows.

"But Mrs. Ohkawa," he gently tries, "Honda was shot in the back of the head at close range. Do you really want everyone to remember him with no face? Not to mention your grandchildren. Don't you think they might have nightmares?"

Mrs. Ohkawa considers for a grief-stricken moment, then downright bursts into tears and wails in hysteria, "But he hated tiny spaces! Can't you reconstruct his face?"

Kumaraten's an undertaker, not a miracle worker or a forensic artist. It would take weeks of hard work, he'd have to completely rebuild the poor man's bone structure, and he'd be held together with putty and glue anyway. There's no possible way his face can be anything but a shattered mess.

So Kumaraten thinks and comes up with, "Do you have, perhaps, a New Year's mask he liked? If he wore a mask he could still be, um, in the open."

_At least until we put him into the cremation oven._

Mrs. Ohkawa smiles then, watery and weak but still a smile, and tells him, "Actually yes, Mr. Haka. Well, not a New Year's mask, but Honda used to love playing Wolfman with the grandkids. They'd much rather see Grandpa with that mask than with an exit wound where his face should be."

_Wolfman. This is one for the company logs: Ohkawa Honda, seventy-two years old, claustrophobic and sent to the Great Beyond wearing a monster mask, _Kumaraten thinks sourly, fighting the urge to roll his he nods, smiling back, and gives her the pleasant reply of "Excellent. That'll work perfectly. Now, as for what you want him to wear…"

Once Mrs. Ohkawa is gone, he does roll his eyes to the ceiling. Widows… they're so often distraught. Usually the oldest son makes the funeral arrangements, but Ohkawa Honda had one daughter and no son at all, so his wife stepped up to the plate. She's far from the most strung-out grieving person Kumaraten has ever encountered, but a Wolfman mask just strikes him as sacrilegious and very disrespectful. Times are changing, and he remembers a day when decorum ruled Japan, from cradle to grave. Personally, he blames Western influence.

…Well, okay, in all honesty, Western influence is why he makes so much money. Without that, funerals would still be completely a family and priest affair, not needing the services of professional morticians, who very frankly overcharge because they can. The Hideki Funeral Home is for the well-heeled, but even small operations make a bundle off the dead and their families. It bothers Kumaraten a bit, but he at least treats the deceased with the utmost respect, and you get what you pay for.

He's not the head mortician, as Hideki is family-owned, but he's gotten as high as he can without marrying Mr. Hideki's daughter, who he kind of dislikes anyway. He's exceptional at his job, because he's always been good with the dead. After all, they don't insult or annoy you.

There was a time, not long ago, when a man like him would have been operating on the outskirts of society, dealt with only out of necessity and treated as second-class. A noukanshi, or "encoffiner," would've been viewed as a very odd, macabre, and downright unclean man, worthy of whispers behind his back and avoided gazes. Now, an undertaker is, while still viewed a little oddly, not an outcast anymore. Because after all, Japan is graying, and funerals are frequent these days.

_It's a good thing we're a nation that respects the elderly, _he thinks as he goes back into the office. _We truly value those who have lived longer than we have. I thought my grandparents and parents were so much better than I was, and I wish they were still here to impart wisdom._

Kumaraten's parents are long dead, he was an only child, and they were only children too. He has no living relations save his great-uncle, and Uncle Agamya will be gone soon as well. Then Kumaraten will be a man with no family, something antithetical to Japan. It makes him feel like an outcast actually, and contributes to the lingering depression that hit at age thirteen when his cat died, and has never gone away.

He manages it well (psychiatric medications are true lifesavers), but it wears him down sometimes. Add to that his profession, and it's no surprise that he is a rather unhappy man, one who envies the big extended families he constantly sees everywhere. The logical inference of "Why don't I find myself a wife?" pops up often, but no matter who he meets, it never seems right. And being a rather introverted person, he's gotten tired of putting himself out there with nothing to show for it.

That too leads to depression, a sort of weariness of one's self-worth. Is he really _that _undesirable to women? Yeah, the whole mortician thing unnerves a lot of people, but everybody else at Hideki is either married or steadily dating. And some of them aren't as attractive as he is. It's not bragging to say that, it's just a matter-of-fact acknowledgment that anybody with eyes can make. It's really a pity that good looks don't automatically translate to a soulmate.

He continues with his day, part of which involves preparing the remains of a five-year-old girl, dead from leukemia. Add another mark to the scoreboard of depressing things, looking at a wasted, bald child who will never get the chance to grow up. Actually, that makes him feel rather guilty that he was feeling sorry for himself, since he at least has his health. He sighs and closes his eyes, deciding that he'll hit the bar tonight for a much-needed pick-me-up.

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(Shinjuku-ku, Tokyo)

Shirobotan Kahra, florist and harried woman, frowns at a customer who clearly ordered roses but expects lilies, and patiently tells him, "Mr. Zetsuai, our records say you wanted a dozen white _roses. _We ask for confirmation at the time of order, and you must have given it."

"Why would I order roses?" the customer demands near-hysterically. "My wife likes _lilies_, and I told her I'd be bringing some when I pick her up today! I want my lilies!"

"Mr. Zetsuai, you probably _meant _to say 'lilies,' but the order clearly states that you ordered roses. Now, I'm sure this is just an innocent misunderstanding, and you were probably just distracted at the time of confirmation. I can make up a bouquet of lilies, but you'll have to –"

"I should be getting it free! You people made a mistake!"

And so on and so forth. Kahra finds herself wishing with all she is that people would treat service providers as they treat coworkers or strangers on the street, because sometimes, the problems are of the customer's making. The customer is always right from a business perspective, and she allows herself to be bullied into giving this one a discount, but the fact of the matter remains that the customer is _not _always right. Sigh.

When the lily-laden jerk is gone, she heaves a tired sigh and slumps behind the register. She _likes _her job, and for the most part the customers too, but when they start personally insulting you for something they did themselves, you find yourself wishing you could just go home early. But nope, she's the owner of this fine little establishment, and she has to keep an eye on everybody else. Shirobotan Florists is small yet profitable, but there's just not enough room to have many workers. Usually there are only three on-site, five at peak times like festivals or Valentine's Day.

Now, she might be able to take some consolation in the fact that she gets to leave early this afternoon… but only to visit the cemetery. Far from a happy thing, although at least the sun is shining today. When her mother's remains were interred a year ago, it was thundering hard.

This is not the anniversary of her mother's death, or her father's death, which would entail a greater production and bigger offerings, but their wedding anniversary. Kahra well remembers how much they loved each other, and the loss is still so raw. It helps to honor them, though it's so hard too. But then, unless one's living in Mexico, does anyone truly have fun at a cemetery?

When the time comes to leave, she gathers the flowers she's taking with her, and puts them reverently next to the incense sticks in the backseat. The sun hasn't started to set yet, which is good because she has a ways to drive. Her parents are buried in the famous Aoyama Cemetery, in Minato-ku where they lived, and with traffic it might be a long time until she gets there.

_A year and three months since you joined Father, Mother, _she thinks as she drives mechanically. _But you wasted away after his death, because he always was the most important person in the world to you. I mean, by gods, you eloped with him and cut off all contact with your judgmental families! That's crazy, to act only for the individual and not so much the family. I mean, I do that too, but because I have to now that you're both gone._

The cemetery is huge, towering grave after towering grave, but she goes past the wealthy family plots and down to the middle-class ones. Shirobotan Ken and Asuka have a grave that still looks new, as well it should. She reverently adorns it with flowers and lights some incense, tears in her eyes as she remembers her parents. They were really something, always laughing and making romantic gestures, and she sincerely hopes that they're happy together, wherever they may be.

The grave looks much prettier now, with its flowers, but how can a grave ever be a happy thing? She sighs as she kneels to pray before it, and mentally asks them, _Mother and Father, why did you elope and cut your families off? You left me all alone except for my friends, and they're not my family._

She stays there as the sun slowly sets, and finally, as darkness falls, she gets up with a sniffle. It hurts so badly, to be so solitary, and she suddenly feels the keen need for something to shake up her routine. She needs to go see a hilarious movie, or go out to a restaurant, or – or what about a bar? She hasn't been to one of those for years, but her father would always laugh about how he'd met her mother: "A beautiful, wealthy lady came into my bar, made me drop the glass I was cleaning when she smiled at me, and I ended up marrying her!"

So hmm, maybe a bar visit would actually honor her parents, in a way.

So she just gets in her car and drives aimlessly for a while, listening to the radio and keeping an eye out for a bar. And then, there's one on the left, small but with a parking lot that's not too crowded, so she decides that'll do. She parks and walks towards it with a steady gait, reading the name on the sign: "Douketsu." Well, that will work just as fine as any other bar, but the name is rather odd. "Cave"? Oh well, bars kind of are like caves, dim and with denizens who sometimes don't see the light very often.

She takes a deep breath and walks over to the counter, where there's an open seat between a fat man and a skinny woman. See, no reason to be nervous, there are lots of other women in this bar, and the fat man seems pretty melancholy. Kahra peruses the offerings, and goes with a peach and pineapple cocktail, that'll do nicely. She's never been one to go for hard liquor, and if it doesn't taste sweet, she doesn't like it.

As the bartender makes her drink, the fat man to the right startles her by morosely asking, "You got a man, honey?"

"Yes, so please leave me alone," she answers firmly, because if she tells the truth and says "no" he'll bother her. He might bother her anyway, but at least this way she'd made it very clear that she's not interested. Damn, maybe this was a mistake after all.

He looks at her with sad, bleary eyes and mutters, "Thought so. Everybody I ask does."

He drains his drink and gets up, and she feels a little sorry for him. But not sorry enough to want to engage him in conversation, so as he leaves, she feels relief. She's not the type of woman who thinks any attention is good attention, and in fact, she's rather shy. Oh dear, this is a bad place for a shy person to be; half the "fun" of a bar is the interaction with other patrons.

Ah, here's the cocktail. She sips it cautiously, and she can taste the alcohol very clearly. It's a tad stronger than she'd like, but oh well, it could be worse.

And then another man occupies the seat next to her, this one with shoulder-length, wavy olive hair put into a high ponytail, and a rather weary expression. He nods at her and greets, "Good evening, ma'am," then catches the bartender's attention and orders some decent sake, not the fanciest brand but certainly not the cheapest either.

She might have just ignored him and gone back to nursing her drink, but she finds her eyes drawn to this tall stranger, and her mind wondering, _Where do I know him from?_

For his part, Kumaraten is irrationally pleased to have sat down next to this particular woman – particular _lady_, it's easy to tell that by her modest but nice clothes and her reserved yet classy demeanor. She's got coloring he's always secretly found gorgeous, and her hair is practically hypnotic with its glossy shine and long length. She seems a bit shy but also keeps looking at him, so he sends her a kind smile and tells her, "You can talk to me, I don't bite."

She flushes in shame but smiles back, and asks him politely, "What's your name, sir?"

"Kane," he glibly lies, because why give a total stranger his real name?

"And I'm Reika," she replies, the exact same thought in her mind.

"Pleased to meet you, Reika," he says with another smile, wondering if that's a pseudonym or not. "You seem a bit sad today, if it's not too forward of me to say so. Rough day at work, perhaps?" he guesses, with an intonation that seems to say, "I know the feeling, trust me."

She hesitates on what to say, wondering if sharing too much information might be a mistake. But the alcohol's loosening her tongue, and he seems nice enough, certainly handsome enough. Not that the latter part matters, she hastens to tell herself, but handsome men have a better chance of getting a woman to talk to them than ugly men. "Kane" has a sort of brooding quality about him, in the slant of his dark eyebrows and the corners of his well-formed mouth, and maybe that's why she decides to tell him part of her story.

So she sighs and cautiously reveals, "Well yes, I did have a rather difficult day at work actually, but that's not it. You see, I just came from my parents' grave in the Aoyama Cemetery. My mother died just last year, and my father only two years before that. And – you probably won't believe me on this – they had no family. Or at least, none they ever told me about in detail," she mutters, taking another sip of alcohol.

Kumaraten is very much surprised, and puts down his own drink with a fervent, "I do believe that, Reika. I have only one relative myself."

She's startled by that, and has to wonder if he's just saying that in a prelude to hitting on her. She's rather stunned to realize that she doesn't automatically want to leave at that thought, and instead it's almost… flattering. So she tells him fervently, "Then you know how lonely it is, with no family left. Or in your case just one family member left."

"It's _incredibly _lonely," he says flatly, like this is the most obvious thing in the world. "It makes you wish you had seven siblings, and six step-siblings too."

They talk for a long time, so long their drinks still aren't finished an hour later. She feels like she really knows him, like she's made a friend, like he actually understands her and isn't just trying to get into her pants, as one would think he would be. He's done nothing that really qualifies as hitting on her, and she almost wishes he _would _flirt a little. Where that would go she has no idea, but it would still be nice to be appreciated by this handsome man. This _kind _handsome man, that's just as important as his physical attractiveness.

"Your father sounds like a real character," he's saying with a smile. "Mine was very dry and rather boring. Did your mother have a sense of humor and adventurousness too?"

"She was quieter, but yes, she was definitely someone who liked to laugh and do exciting things. I mean, they eloped," Kahra replies with an answering smile.

For a moment that's all they do, smile at each other with their gazes locked, and with the alcohol loosening all sorts of mental ties, a thought comes into her head. That thought is, _I think __I__ should__ start to flirt with __him__._

"Do you like exciting things?" he asks lightheartedly, but still holding her gaze. "Or do you prefer safety?"

She takes a barely noticeable deep breath and replies, "Well, I like safety of course, but sometimes I like exciting things too. Like talking to a handsome stranger in a bar," she giggles before she can stop herself, a blush rising on her cheeks and her heart pounding. But where's the harm in just flirting? Nothing has to come of it, right?

He seems pleased with her last sentence, and banters back, "Oh really? I like talking to a _beautiful _stranger just as much. And you really are, you know. You truly stand out, out of everybody else in this place."

Somehow, that means an awful lot. Somehow, she feels like she's been waiting for him to say something like that for a long time. Somehow, she feels safe that he did, no worries that she might be leaving herself open for things to go badly for her. Somehow, attraction is urging her on, a powerful attraction like she's never felt before. Is this chemistry, then, that near-magic, undefinable but very real bond between two people?

"I feel like I know you," she says abruptly, making him nod hard in agreement. "Like we're friends, not two new acquaintances. Isn't that odd? But it's true, Kane."

"Indeed it is, Reika," he agrees in a musing tone, and he looks like he's thinking hard.

She just sits there and watches him, her head cocked to one side and her nearly-empty glass clutched in her hand, then she absentmindedly takes another drink. He watches the movements with eyes that she now notices are a very intense grey-blue, not too light or too dark, just a blue that you might see on the ocean under the sun, far in the distance. He seems to come to a decision then, those eyes meeting hers, and she has the distinct sense that something monumental is about to happen.

"Spend the night with me?" he asks in a murmur, and she is startled but not fully surprised by that question.

It would be promiscuous, irresponsible, and leave her feeling guilty in the morning, no matter how her heart leapt at his words. No matter how much she wants it, which makes very little sense, it would be an overwhelmingly stupid move. So when she smiles and replies, "Yes," she's confused.

He lights up at this, and leans in while gently taking hold of her jaw. She closes her eyes as he closes his, and can no longer think of why this is a bad idea as his lips touch hers gently, then become more and more demanding as time goes on. Not harsh, just hungry for her mouth, his tongue opening her lips and slipping past her teeth in an action he never thought he'd be performing tonight.

Sweet, sweet, her mouth, tasting just like her drink, which is fine with him because he's always secretly liked fruity beverages more than other alcohol. She can taste the sake in his mouth, which isn't as nice but it's a good kiss nonetheless. He knows what he's doing and he's not trying to ram his tongue down her throat, which is something she's never liked thanks to her sensitive gag reflex. No, he's just toying with her tongue, playing with her lips, and making certain body parts sit up and take notice.

So. A hookup in a bar, part of her mind hisses in disgust. A man she just met, and she's going to sleep with him? A stranger, who could've zeroed in on her and intended this to happen the entire time, a man who could turn out to be a rapist who'll –

_He's no rapist! _another part of her cries, offended at the first part. _He's not! Don't ask me how I know but I do, and he's not going to hurt me!_

And the alcohol, which by now is sloshing liberally through her system, cheers, _Whee-hee, a hottie who's gonna have sex with us! Woo-hoo, we're ready to get down and dirty, we're smashed and horny and sad before but he made us happy, so let's get even happier! We haven't gotten laid for a whole three years, it's time to get horizontal._

Finally they draw apart, flushed and a little short of breath, as the bartender rolls his eyes out of their sight. Yup, seen it a million times, and he'll see it again a million times. Every night it's at least twenty pairs, usually more like thirty or even forty, depending on how busy it is and how much alcohol is flowing. So go with the sexy stranger, pretty lady, and just pray things end well for you because often they don't, one way or another.

Kahra hesitantly asks Kumaraten, "Do you want to go, now? I mean, do you live near here?"

"Yes to the first question, no the second question," he replies matter-of-factly, setting his empty glass down. "But this is a part of town with numerous motels, and I'm sure a cab driver can recommend the closest one. Let's go, Reika," he says as he stands up, taking hold of her arm in a gesture that seems completely natural.

Once outside, he hails a taxi within seconds, leaving her little time to really think on this. But hasn't she thought enough? Hasn't she hashed it all out before? She wonders what he's thinking, but just then he helps her inside like a gentleman, and she feels flattered again. Oh, so dashing, this man.

"Where to?" the cabbie asks cheerfully, and as Kumaraten buckles his seatbelt he answers, "The closest motel you know of with a vacancy."

"Right," the driver says, studiously neutral but it still makes Kahra a little embarrassed. Kumaraten takes it in stride, although he does frown a bit at the back of the other man's head.

As the car starts to move an awkwardness sets in, an avoidance of gazes and resentment that there's a third wheel here. Kahra has to wonder what her companion is thinking, and hopes that it's something good in regard to her. His brows are still frowning as he stares at his reflection in the window, and he seems almost sad, an expression one doesn't usually see on a man involved in a one-night stand.

_Touch him, _her mind whispers to her, soaked in desire and no longer caring what a bad thing this is. _Touch him, you're going to touch him anyway, and you've made your choice so it's time to leave your morals behind._

And so she reaches out with a steady hand and lays it against the side of his neck, staring into his eyes when he turns his head to look at her with a sort of surprise. It was an intimate gesture, one she didn't have to do, and it pleases him. So he returns it and kisses her again, as the driver catches sight of this in the mirror, shakes his head, and thinks, _Some people, I just don't know._

The drive is short and it feels shorter, filled with lustful kisses and hands wandering places they hope the driver won't notice. Once the taxi stops Kumaraten pays with an impatient air, as it occurs to Kahra to wonder who'll be paying for the room. Since he paid for the taxi, does she pay for the bed? Or does he pay, since he's the man? Is she supposed to pay, but will he be gallant and pick up the tab for the motel too?

She doesn't know, and as they walk into the lobby with his arm around her waist, she hesitantly tells him, "I've never, um, done this before, so how do we work out the bill?"

"Don't worry, I've got it," he soothes her worries in a murmur, as the clerk looks up and smiles. "Not a problem."

She can't help but notice that he pays for a whole night, not just an hour or two, and that's flattering. It tells her that he really does like her. And once he gets his receipt he puts his arm around her shoulders, steering her towards the room. So yes, here we go, a new experience for both, not that she knows that about him.

Sex is a powerful, powerful motivator. Neither of them are strangers to it, but this seems almost like sexual attraction times two. Maybe it's the alcohol for her and the depression for him, and the loneliness for both of them, but they can barely keep their hands off each other as they stumble towards the bed. He almost falls actually, her legs wrapped around him making it difficult to walk, but they make it to the place where things will go further.

And then there are those awkward moments of fumbling their clothes off, her removing his shirt and him removing her bra, and it's a mark of how far gone they are that neither thinks of protection. That's a foolish oversight.

"Oh Kane," she breathes as his hands slide her panties down her legs, "you will be gentle, right?"

"I'm good at gentle," he answers in a desperate growl, unbuckling his belt and feasting his eyes upon her bared and beautiful body. As he gets his pants off, he continues, "I take it you want me on top?"

"Yes, please," she assents, staring at what the removed pants and boxers reveal. He has a damn good body in all sorts of ways, and as she drinks him in, a dormant part of her brain thinks that this view is familiar. Very familiar, comforting almost, this nude man, but at the same time exciting and novel. And of course, arousing.

She stares at his hard sex, feeling certain parts of her body thrill to the sight, then she hears his voice ask, "Too big for you?"

"No, I hope not," she replies, meeting his eyes again. "But it certainly is very nice. Kane… can I touch it?" she asks eagerly, and he chuckles, "Well of _course _you can touch it."

_She really is shy, _he think as she reaches out and gently wraps her fingers around the shaft. _"Can I touch it?" when we're here naked together. Most women would have gone right ahead and touched what they wanted, but she seems almost like a virgin. That's… pretty alluring, actually._

Kissing, touching, tonguing, and whispering erotic words into each other's ears, they arouse each other even more. Foreplay is important, they each know that, but soon they reach the point where teasing isn't enough. No, she needs him inside her and he needs the same thing, because you can be so close to bliss for only so long before you must reach out and take it. It won't be instant ecstasy and they might not be very good together, but their bodies don't know that.

He reluctantly pulls back from her breasts, looking her in the eye with a gasp of "Are you ready?" as he gets himself into position. So here it is, Kahra and Kumaraten, "Reika" and "Kane," about to come together here in the night. She's soaking by now and he's more than hard enough, and all he needs is her assent to take this to the next level.

He gets it.

"Yes, please, yes," she gasps back, fisting her hands in the sheet as he begins his entrance into her body. "Ahhh…"

She's perfect for him, and he's perfect for her. It seems _familiar_, almost, just like the way he found her most sensitive spots so quickly, and how she guessed/knew that he has a spot right above his collarbone that drives him wild. They fit together so well she marvels at it, but no sooner has she marveled than he starts to really move, and it's an entirely new form of happy surprise. Sparks of heated sensation race from her lower body up to her brain, and a similar phenomenon is taking place over on his end.

Her arms come up around him and soon her legs do too, leading to deeper penetration and even more pleasure. He can't help but think that it's never been this good before, and half the reason for that is because it's _her_. She's really something, such a sweet woman who inflames his desire like no one else, and for him too, there is that sense of familiarity. It's wonderful luck (so he thinks) that whatever he does she likes, as if they've been doing this for a long time and he knows just what does it for her.

"You're beautiful," he pants against her mouth, bent fully over her. "You are."

"Ah – Kane!" she gasps in reply, and for a moment he almost says, "No, _Kumaraten_," but she interrupts him with a desperate, "Faster, faster, please!"

That's what she wants, that's what she gets. Soon the headboard's knocking against the wall from his hard thrusts, but that's okay, the couple in the next room is doing the same thing. Kahra and Kumaraten barely notice it, though, too caught up in this whirlwind of pleasure. She clings to him hard, until he grabs her hands and clasps them against the mattress, an even more intimate gesture in the most intimate of human acts. She clasps back, and climax is on a fast track here, hurtling closer and closer.

"Ahh – ahhh! K-Kane," she moans, feeling that most joyous peak get closer and closer and closer. And miraculously, he's in the same boat, something rather unusual for two people supposedly doing this for the first time. Well, really, maybe it's not that unusual after all, then.

"Reika," he manages, his movements becoming uncontrolled and even harder. "Are –?"

He means to ask, "Are you almost there?" but her joyous cry tells him that no, she's not almost there, she _is _there. He can feel her ripple around his sex as she comes, and it's more than enough to push him into a glorious climax of his own, pumping his seed deep inside her as he cries aloud, "KAHRA!"

In their ecstasy, neither notices this name. She will not register it at all, he will only register it weeks later. As it is, they cling and groan and move together, the world having shrunk to just this bed, just the two of them. They do not think, they just _feel_, and it feels wonderful. Orgasm is that most wonderful of human experiences, a natural high more powerful than any drug, synthetic or found in nature. Really, not even a religious epiphany can hope to match it.

But all good things must come to an end. The climactic pleasure seeps away, leaving him panting and boneless atop her, her legs trembling around his waist. For long moments all they do is catch their breaths, then he lifts his head, looks her in the eye, and whispers, "Thank you."

She nods in response, still shaken from the pleasure, and he closes his eyes and gently disengages. As he does she lets out a tired sigh, fuzzily thinking that was probably the best sex she's ever had. No sooner has he lain down beside her than she turns to him and snuggles close to his body, feeling the keen need to stay intimate. He sends her a tired grin that she can't see, and one of his arms comes up to press her tighter against him.

It feels marvelous, this, and with the alcohol and the endorphins still running through her system, her last conscious thought is, _I could stay like this forever…_

_._

But she wakes with a cold feeling of hungover dread, her subconscious telling her that she's done something very, very wrong. With her eyes still shut, she tries hard to remember why this should be, and for long moments can't recall. All right, the best way is to retrace her steps yesterday, so: it was her parents' anniversary, she visited the grave, it was so depressing she went to a –

She went to a _bar_, and there was a man, and they talked, and he asked her to… Oh gods, and she _did_, she slept with him and she's not home, she's in a cheap motel bed, and now that she really listens she can hear deep, steady breathing that's not her own.

Her eyes open centimeter by centimeter, and yes, this is definitely a motel wall she's looking at. And she is definitely naked under these covers. And there is definitely sensitivity between her legs, not quite soreness but almost there. And when she slowly turns over with her heart in her throat, there is definitely a man sleeping next to her, his back turned towards her with the faintest of scratches on it.

What does one do, in this situation? Especially when one's prided oneself on being moral and having standards, and has gotten offended when others brag about their exploits, and now one's done something worse than many of them. A lifetime of being a "good girl" sobs into its hands and screams, _I committed a sin! How could I be so stupid?!_

…_Because he was sweet? _another part of her desperately tries. _Because I felt like I –_

_I was drunk! _the first part babbles frantically. _That's the only reason, and I swear to any and every higher power that I'll never make this mistake again. What I have to do now is leave, as fast as I can before he wakes up – actually no, first I have to go barf up my cocktail._

So as quietly as she can, she stumbles into the bathroom and vomits, ugh. When she tiptoes back out after rinsing her mouth, she's incredibly gratified to find that he's slept through all that. He hasn't even turned over, so he must sleep like a log.

She stares at him for long moments, the air chilly on her bare body, and can't help but wonder what he'll do when he wakes to find her gone. Will he be upset? Will he roll his eyes and go on with his life? Will he smirk and think, _"Okay Reika, I got what I wanted"_? She has the distinct sense that he'll be not smug or merely annoyed, but actually quite upset, but damn it all, a mistake like this can't be perpetuated.

As she gets dressed as silently as possible, part of her is wailing to at least leave him a note with her number, in case he truly was attracted to her. The hungover, shamed, and frightened part just bellows at her to leave, now. It says to run away, as far as she can, and never think of this again. And of course to go get checked for STDs, since she was stupid enough to have unprotected sex with a stranger. For all she knows she's just contracted HIV, and that thought makes her nearly panic.

So she grabs her purse, tiptoes to the door, and turns back because she can't make herself go without at least an acknowledgment of him. He was very kind, and he made her feel incredible enjoyment, so she stares at his sleeping face and whispers, "Goodbye, Kane. I wish you all the best."

For some reason, her movements seem heavy as she walks out the door, closing and locking it behind her out of courtesy. So true, that part of her wants to stay and wake him up, talk to him and maybe work things out. But she shakes her head and heads straight to the bus stop, having a good idea of how to get back to her car. It'll take a while and she truly hopes it hasn't been towed or broken into, but hopefully everything will be all right.

Yet as she sees the bus come over a hill, she can't help but think, _I wish I knew his real name…_

Kumaraten wakes a mere fifteen minutes after Kahra closed the door, suddenly and from a dream of a cavern collapsing onto him as he held a dead woman in his arms. Frightening, to dream of being buried alive, while clinging to the body of someone he just met last night. Oh sure, in the dream it felt like he knew her for centuries, but dreams are stupid flights of fancy that make you believe things that aren't true.

He does not immediately open his eyes, just runs through the memories of last night. He honestly hadn't expected his offer to end in sex, but he's certainly glad it did. She was just _phenomenal_, and he's not even thinking about the intercourse. She's sweet and shy, a combination he finds irresistible, and so understanding too. He pretty much couldn't help being drawn to her, and now, he can't wait for things to continue.

He'll give her his number, get hers in turn, and that can be the beginning of something glorious. She's amazing, and while he does feel a little guilty about picking up a woman who might've been drunk, he really can't bring himself to regret it. She certainly liked it and she certainly liked him, and he's willing to bet she'll like dating him even more.

He opens his eyes, realizes that he's facing the door, and turns over, fully expecting to see her either looking at him or still asleep. But instead he sees an empty bed, which makes him come wide awake in what's almost panic. She's gone!

_Whoa, calm down Kumaraten, _he soothes himself, taking a deep breath. _She's probably just in the bathroom. Maybe she's taking a shower._

But he hears no running water, which makes him frown in worry as he softly calls, "Reika? Are you, um, in the bathroom? …Reika?"

No response whatsoever, so he gets out of bed so fast he trips on the sheet. Oh no, it would be just his luck if he meets the woman of his dreams and she runs away from him. And he did, he knows that in the same way he knows he's naked, just a simple, "Yup, that's a fact." She felt _familiar_, and he trusted her immediately, and if she's gone, he's going to go bonkers. Yet surely she's still here!

But the bathroom door is open to reveal an empty room, and he stares at it with a strangled, "Oh… shit."

_Maybe she left a note! _his mind cries, grasping at straws. _Maybe she left her number!_

But he's not surprised in the least when he finds no note whatsoever. She's completely gone, and he has to wonder how long she actually spent sleeping next to him. Did she wait until he fell asleep and then go? Dammit, she didn't seem like the type to do that, so what's most likely is that she just happened to wake up before him, regretted last night's actions, and bailed out of fear. Aw hell, she probably thought that he took advantage of her in the worst way. He kind of did, he has to admit it.

Okay yes, she certainly enjoyed it while it was happening, but Kumaraten is not naïve. He's well aware that inebriation, even partial inebriation, means drastically lowered inhibitions, and once sobriety makes an appearance one can be horrified at the mistakes one made when tipsy. So it's all his fault, really.

He sits back down on the bed and buries his head in his hands, cursing his luck and his actions. What he _should _have done was ask her for her number back at the bar, and she probably would've given it to him. If he'd done that, he might even now be whistling a cheery love song in the shower back at home, anticipating calling her and hopefully going out on a date. Instead he's lost her, and that's so depressing he'll be tempted to over-medicate himself and –

His meds! His meds are at home, dammit. He takes them with breakfast, and he didn't bring them with him to the bar, since he had no idea what would happen. Okay, the first thing to do is go home, take the all-important antidepressants, and _then _he can start to deal with this.

So he quickly showers since he paid for a whole night here anyway, gets dressed, checks out, and takes the subway home. He didn't drive to the bar since public transportation is easier, and Tokyo has a very good system. The sun is shining on this beautiful spring morning, which is a terrible contrast to his gloomy mood. There should be a law that the weather matches a man's feelings for major life events like this.

When he finally trudges up his sidewalk, he feels like winging a rock at the singing birds. Stupid, _stupid _birds, with their merry chirping. Here he's wrong: wild birds sing to claim territory, attract mates, and threaten rivals, and they rarely if ever sing for fun. Oh well, at least his garden lifts his spirits a little, with its buds and blossoms.

Kumaraten _loves _flowers, all sorts of flowers, from cherry blossoms to roses to dandelions to the ancient corpse flower at the conservatory, the one that only blooms every hundred years, which he was lucky enough to see. They are beautiful and fascinating to him, evolutionary necessities that please the eye, and more often than not smell so sweet. He didn't grow up with flowers, and he thinks that maybe that's why he likes them so much.

Now, he makes sure to have them everywhere. His garden is a work of art that he pours tons of money and labor into, his window boxes always have geraniums when it's warm enough, and he has a fine collection of orchids. Sometimes he buys himself a massive bouquet to stick in a vase, and semi-lies to the florist, "Why yes, it's for someone very important to me."

And today is a special day for flowers, he belatedly remembers as he unlocks his door. This afternoon, he and his great-uncle Agamya will have their own tiny umemi, a plum blossom-viewing party. Kumaraten will also be attending a hanami (cherry blossom-viewing party) with his colleagues this weekend, but those tend to get a bit too wild for Agamya. Like many of his generation, he prefers the plum blossom parties because they're much more low-key, and not as many people flock to see the plum blossoms. Nope, sakura parties are where it's at for the hip and young!

Kumaraten makes himself breakfast without much enthusiasm, takes his meds without much enthusiasm, and rushes to work without much enthusiasm either. Work is busy, too busy, and the minute he tries to process last night, he always gets distracted again. Even lunch is cut short, which is probably good because he kept feeling sorry for himself as he ate it. Finally, finally, the workday ends, and he goes home to prepare for the mini-umemi.

Okay, so. He needs to pack bento, the prepared boxed meals. And he needs to bring sake, too. But most of all, he needs to bonk his head against his wall a couple times, out of frustration. Darn it "Reika," it's just getting worse, this sense of loss.

He's still beating himself up as he pulls up in front of Agamya's tidy little house. No sooner has he turned the car off than the elderly relative opens his door, all smiles and practically bouncing down the sidewalk in his excitement to see his great-nephew. It's almost cute, if you can call a wizened, tiny bald man "cute." Kumaraten can, although he knows not to insult Agamya by saying it out loud. No old person wants to be lumped together with little kids. They'd rather be called "sweet" instead of "cute," and who can blame them?

"Good afternoon, favorite nephew," Agamya greets in a bubbly tone as Kumaraten opens the passenger-side door for him. "Thank you for picking me up. You know how much I hate the subway."

"You need to get used to the subway, uncle, and –"

"I am used to the subway! I just don't like it," Agamya says serenely, buckling his seatbelt. "I'm eighty-eight years old, I think I've earned the right to not like something."

Kumaraten says nothing in response, and in fact, isn't nearly as talkative as he usually is. Agamya picks up on this, and once they've had their picnic beneath the plum blossoms, he studies his great-nephew shrewdly. Oh dear, is poor Kumaraten's depression acting up again? What a pity if so, since he was doing so well. He seems upset about something, and as he reaches a hand up to touch a flower-laden branch, Agamya asks him in concern, "What's wrong, Kumaraten? Something is."

Kumaraten says nothing for long moments, staring at the blossoms, then suddenly bursts out, "There was a woman, Uncle Agamya. At a bar, an exotic woman so beautiful I was surprised men weren't hounding her." He turns and bluntly goes on, "I slept with her, and –"

"Why would you do such a silly thing?" Agamya lectures, but with a gentle tone in his voice. "You're a wise man, you don't 'hook up' like a young fool. Were you drunk?"

"No. That wasn't it, not at all. I felt like…"

Kumaraten reaches up as if to touch something intangible, his fingers spreading and reaching for a woman who isn't there, and reverently goes on, "I felt like I knew her. I felt like I loved her, as idiotic as that sounds. I was going to ask her for her number, but when I woke up she was gone. And then I felt like I had lost something precious, almost like I'd lost her before. Dumb, isn't it?" he sighs in self-deprecation, lowering his hands and casting his eyes to the ground.

"Um… well, certainly _unusual_, but I wouldn't say 'dumb,' " his great-uncle says slowly. "As you know, I met my wife and just _knew_. Too bad it took her a year to know too, but we're not talking about Natsumi and me. But if this woman fled from you, don't you think she might be regretting what she did and wants no more contact?"

Kumaraten snaps, "Oh yes, I've thought of that. I've thought it into the ground. But I don't think you understand how we connected, how she liked me in return. I'll bet you any amount of money that she only left because she was ashamed of the one-night stand, since she was a little, um, drunk last night."

Agamya throws his hands up, exasperated at these bad decisions, and cries, "Well there's your answer, boy! Take advantage of a drunken woman, and no wonder she runs away. I thought you were a better man than that," he scolds, shaking a finger in condemnation.

"I didn't _mean _to take advantage of her!" Kumaraten snarls in reply, making the elderly group next to them frown and give him disapproving looks. Unaware of that, he heatedly continues, "I only wanted to be with her because I felt so powerfully attracted, all right? And now, believe me, I'm kicking myself for what I did. Had I been thinking clearly, I would've merely exchanged numbers. So don't you lecture me anymore, because I've lectured myself enough."

For a moment they just stare at each other, then Kumaraten sighs and mumbles, "Sorry, Uncle. That was rude. It just goes to show how worked up I am about this."

Agamya nods slowly, then cautiously ventures, "But you say you really feel like you love this woman? What was her name, anyway?"

"She said it was Reika, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't real. But yes, I do feel like I love her. I feel that if I just let it end like this, I'll be missing out on something fundamentally important," Kumaraten tells him, and plucks a blossom off the branch. He stares at it in his hand, then muses in a murmur, "She was kind of like a flower, delicate and beautiful, and you know how much I love flowers."

"Then I think you know what you have to do," Agamya says softly, and Kumaraten nods in agreement, telling him solemnly, "I have to find her."

.

Even as Kumaraten admits his new obsession, Kahra finds herself regretting her sudden departure. Now that the hangover's gone, now that she's had time to mull things over and is thinking clearly, she realizes that she made a grave mistake, just walking out on him like that. Yes they only met less than an hour before they hopped into bed, and no they didn't know each other's real names, and no they shouldn't have gotten busy so quickly… but that nearly desperate feeling of want mixed with safety is back, with a vengeance and reinforcements to boot.

She bites her lip as she touches a hickey on her neck, staring at the kitchen sink without seeing it. Two bad decisions, then, two strikes. Two wrongs really don't make a right, she agrees with the Westerners on this one.

_He was… special. He was intriguing and a gentleman, he was really something in bed, and he liked me a lot, I could tell. If I'd just had the sense to think things through instead of acting on frightened and shamed emotions, I would've known to at least get his contact information. Now I'll probably never see him again, _she thinks with a little sniffle.

That's a painful thought, one parts of her are shrieking in grief at. That's odd and she knows it's odd, but it remains true. Loss, then, is something she feels too, and as she putters around her well-kept house, she can't help but think that she's more familiar with loss than most people: both parents dead, no known relatives, and now "Kane" out of her reach too. Well, that last one is completely of her own making, and she beats herself up about it at every opportunity.

Days pass, more days pass, and now it's two weeks later. And something's wrong, worrisomely so.

She keeps throwing up, and some food she used to love now turns her stomach. And she is no fool; unprotected sex can lead to this, due to a child. So she buys herself a pregnancy test, sees with dismay that she'll have to wait another week until she can tell, and frets and worries and paces, in between trying to keep food and liquids down.

Half of her doesn't believe it could be true, and the other half is wringing its hands like a ninny and whining, _What are the odds? That wouldn't be __fair__, for me to forget protection __once__ and get pregnant from it._

It seems to take forever, waiting to take that test. But finally, oh finally she does, with her heart in her throat and her hands trembling as she holds the test up. And there –

The little screen says "Pregnant." She _is _with child, her suspicions were correct.

She's thirty-six years old, and she's _pregnant_, no man or family to help her and no idea what to do! She loves children yes, and always wanted some, but she never imagined she would be pregnant in these circumstances. How could she have expected her life would wind up like this, a semi-drunken one-night stand resulting in conception, when she was so careful and cautious before?

She sighs, shakes her head, and marches over to her phone to make a doctor's appointment. Because for all the shock and fear and shame, there's an awful lot of excitement too. It's like… it's like she'll never get this chance again, to have that man's child, and she suddenly realizes that if it was anyone else's she might've considered getting rid of it, but not his.

Strange. Strange but true, though, and she gives up on wondering why that is as she dials her doctor's office. It's best to confirm this with a blood test, because home pregnancy tests aren't one hundred percent accurate, and it's important to get care as soon as possible. She's dead certain that she's pregnant now, but she could miscarry at any time.

Is it really wise to keep it? She has to ask herself that, staring at the mirror once she's finished the call. No family, and parents need families to help with the children. But then again, she has many close maternal friends, so it'll probably be all right. However, an unmarried pregnant woman in Japan is much more worthy of scorn than an unmarried pregnant woman in the West, and she'll have to constantly fend off questions about how her husband is helping her/handling it. But it is true that it's becoming more acceptable, at least here in Tokyo. Out in the country, this would be a massive scandal.

Well, it's probably not wise, but she's going to do this anyway. She would regret it forever if she ended this pregnancy, and while she knows it'll be hard, she cannot in good faith make any other decision.

So when she walks into the doctor's office, she's nervous but excited. Dr. Watanabe greets her with the standard bow, directs her to the seat, and proceeds to take a blood test. As the blood sample is carried back to the lab, she asks the question Kahra's been expecting: "Will your husband be excited?"

"I, um, don't have a husband," Kahra says awkwardly, acutely aware of her bare left ring finger. "The father was, well, he was – I don't actually know who he was," she admits in a rush, her face red and her shame showing on it as well.

Dr. Watanabe is a good doctor, and gives no indication of judgment or disdain. Instead she says, politely and kindly, "It would probably be smart to take an STD test, then."

And that's just what she does. The pregnancy test comes back positive quite soon, but the STD test will take a while. But Kahra's not thinking so much about sexually transmitted diseases, she's thinking more about the baby. So it's confirmed now, just like she knew it would be, and she has to ask, "Do you think there will be risks, because I'm thirty-six?"

"It may be a more difficult pregnancy," the doctor replies with a sigh. "Since you're well over thirty, you might be wise to end it before there are complications. As you have no idea who the father really is, I would recommend doing so, for your sake. Otherwise you're looking at a lot of strain, and a higher risk of birth defects because they're often observed in children from older mothers."

"I want this child," Kahra says with all her heart, and Dr. Watanabe goes from serious to smiling, with a pleasant, "Well, then we'll just have to make extra sure you minimize the chances for complications. Now, I want you to take pre-natal vitamins, and eat healthy, and drink lots of water, and…"

She tells Kahra so many things she can't remember them all, and loads her down with pamphlets, and recommends a number of websites and books to help. Oh boy, the first thing Kahra will be doing when she gets out of here will be to make some sort of binder, for pamphlets and printed-out articles, and she'll be bookmarking a ton of sites too. It's going to be exceedingly difficult, and people are going to judge, but she's determined to do this. And the more she thinks about it, the happier she is.

And there is one more thing that it's imperative she does – she has to find "Kane" and tell him what's happened. Even if he wants nothing to do with the baby, he at least deserves to know that he's going to be a father. And she prays that he won't get angry, will instead be excited too, and they can fall in love as the pregnancy brings them closer together. She _knows _he liked her too, plus she has the mysterious but distinct sense that he'll be pleased with an offspring.

So, after making her binder, she drives all the way back to Douketsu, to ask the bartenders for help. The one there is a stranger but she expected that, and as she pays for a Shirley Temple (no alcohol when pregnant!), she tells him seriously, "I'm looking for a certain patron, a man with long, wavy olive hair and blue eyes, who said his name was Kane. Does he sound familiar to you?"

The bartender gives her a perfect poker face in return, and deadpans, "That appearance is far too general to be of any help, ma'am, and I've heard the name 'Kane' in here multiple times. But if you write that info down, and yours too, I'd be willing to ask anyone with those features to give you a call. I can't promise he will or that you won't get perverted calls, though."

Kahra flushes a little at that, but takes the sticky-note tab he slides to her. She writes, "Kane, late 30s/early 40s, handsome, wavy olive hair down past shoulders. Intense blue eyes, pale skin. Please call 'Reika': 03-3232-1287."

She thanks him profusely as he takes the note and sticks it under the counter, and when she leaves, she decides that this is a good starting point. The mysterious man seemed to know the first bartender, like he'd been here before, and that gives her hope. And indeed, that bartender would have known who she was talking about, but he will never get that note. This bartender will accidentally knock it to the floor, step on it, drag it out onto the street, and not even notice when it comes off of his heel. Poor Kahra.

.

It's three weeks later, and Kumaraten's losing sleep trying to find Kahra. Gods, finding one woman in Tokyo is like trying to find a needle in a haystack. He went back to Douketsu numerous times in the hopes that she might be a regular, but no, no one remembers her. By now he's talked to all of the bartenders, even the one who took the note. Unfortunately, that bartender has forgotten her, having seen so many people he can't keep them straight.

Kumaraten has the overwhelming sense that her presence in the bar was an anomaly for her, just judging by the way she was a little tipsy after only having one fruit drink, and how sad and shy she was. So now, after leaving his contact information too, he's turning to a wonderful tool to help find people: the internet, where a hacker can pinpoint your location from an email if he or she is good enough. Kumaraten's not a hacker, but social media could be a blessing.

He tries Mixi, Facebook, and any others he can think of, going with "Reika" because that's the best lead he has, even though he's willing to bet that isn't her real name. Then again, a shy woman who doesn't frequent bars might not know to use a pseudonym. It's a slim chance but it's a chance nonetheless, and he looks at Reika after Reika after Reika, to no avail.

He sighs and massages his temples, getting a migraine. Ugh, all this blue light is bad for him, but it does help keep him awake long into the night. Unfortunately his mornings are more difficult after that, and he's beginning to make mistakes at work. Nothing too serious, but other workers have remarked upon it. His excuse is always a sharp, "I'm dealing with something in my personal life."

No one ever asks what that is, for which he is very thankful. Otherwise, they'd probably label him as some sort of desperate stalker, or lecture him on accepting facts and moving on. As it is, they nod and look intrigued, but politeness has a strong hold on them and they don't pry, thankfully. That's one nice thing about not having any close friends at his job.

Agamya is very worried, having an inkling of Kumaraten's growing desperation. The old man thinks that perhaps it might be time to let the mysterious woman go, but he's astute enough to realize that Kumaraten won't, and will get agitated if told to do so. So Agamya says nothing save words of encouragement, but in the privacy of his mind wonders what will happen if his great-nephew never finds her. If that happens things might get ugly, and the longer it takes, the worse it'll be.

Kumaraten is well-aware of Agamya's concern, he's no dummy. In truth, he has to worry about some sort of breakdown as well, what with all this stress and anxiety. But he doesn't let himself dwell for too long on the possibility that he won't find the beautiful blonde, and instead thinks positively, assuring himself that he _will _find her. He has to!

_Reika, Reika, Reika, _he thinks as he pores over pictures. _I know that's probably not your real name, but I have to start somewhere, and maybe someone tagged a picture of you with your alias. It's a good thing you're so exotic, because I can instantly see if a picture is you or not. I wish I'd snapped one of you myself, because I could use the "similar image" function and drastically cut down on the results._

Nothing again, not surprisingly. He takes his hands off the keyboard and sighs, clapping them to his face and leaning back in his chair. Staring at a computer screen is something he can only do for so long before his eyes need a break, and so he decides to just think for a little while instead, maybe run through everything he remembers about her to see if some formerly unnoticed clue jumps out at him. He's thought about it a lot, but in a rather disjointed manner, so maybe the full event will help.

So. He walked in and noticed an empty spot, then noticed the lady. She smiled at him shyly and he told her he didn't bite, from there they talked for so long, and he was fascinated by her. Her story, her mouth, her eyes, her laugh, her nice modest clothes that couldn't hide a killer figure, and every part of his brain that made him male was panting, _I want this woman, I want her badly. _Which was so _odd_, now that he thinks about it.

He knew he might be doing something wrong, especially in the cab before she touched his neck. He was staring at his reflection without really seeing it, having a hard time believing he was actually doing this, but then she made contact and he threw caution, shame, and judgment to the winds. Even when she said she'd never done it before, having a one night stand, it wasn't enough to make him think twice.

And then… ah. Such gorgeous bared skin, such electric sensations, so arousing to hear her whisper erotic sentiments to him. And he whispered some back to her, took her as skillfully as he could, and when he came, he called out –

"KAHRA!"

Kahra?! But she said her name was Reika, where did he get "Kahra"?

He thinks furiously on this, his brow wrinkled with effort, unconsciously holding his lower lip between his teeth. Well, he felt like she was familiar, and maybe she actually was. Maybe, just maybe, he briefly knew her in childhood! Yes, and her name really is Kahra. A lead! He has another lead now, and a grin breaks out over his face.

Kumaraten nods firmly to himself and begins another search, with higher hopes for this one.

.

Kahra's now six weeks along, and it's time for her first ultrasound. She's incredibly excited to see her baby, even though at this point all she'll see is a little blob.

As she drives to the doctor's office, she thinks to herself, _I'll see them. I won't be able to tell for months if they're a boy or a girl, but I'll see them! A tiny, black and white blob yes, but so different than anything else I've seen on a medical screen._

As the technician applies the sensors, she almost sullenly thinks that it's not fair that she hasn't found her man yet. If he was here, she'd have someone to complain to about all the morning sickness and mood swings, which are worse than she expected. Oh sure, her friends with children told her all about it, but she seems to be having a harder time than any of them did. It just figures. Like being pregnant with no father in the picture isn't hard enough, now she has to upchuck more than usual too?

She's mentioned it to Dr. Watanabe, who's told her to always make sure she has something in her stomach. So now she keeps some crackers in her nightstand, so she can eat something before she even gets up. It helps a lot, but not always enough. Why oh _why _do human mothers have to suffer so much, when so many animal mothers don't have morning sickness?

"Okay, here we go!" the technician says cheerfully, breaking Kahra's train of thought. "Get ready to see the little one!"

In a matter of seconds the screen shows the womb in black and white, and for a moment Kahra is confused, because she can't see anything unusual. Where's the baby?

Dr. Watanabe widens her eyes at the screen, then says solemnly, "There are two, Ms. Shirobotan. Twins! See –" she points at two small, side-by-side oblong shapes, "two fetuses. Probably fraternal twins, since they each have their own amniotic sac."

Kahra's jaw, which dropped at "two," still hangs open as she stares at the screen. TWINS?! She's almost distraught at this news, because being pregnant and thinking about rearing one child alone is daunting, but with two it will be impossible. Her parents never mentioned any twins in either of their families, so it must be from the father –

_No it's not, _something whispers in her mind. _Twins run deep in my family… _

Another strange thought, another strange vision: that of a woman who looks a lot like Kahra, but with pale skin, dark brown hair, and brown eyes. And behind her two boys, one with red hair and brown eyes, one with black hair and golden eyes, and pointed ears to boot. And names go along with these people: Shashi, Tenou, Ashura, none of which she's ever heard before, and yet they are familiar. Twins all three, just like her.

She fights to urge to shake her head to make this psychic nonsense go away, and instead fervently asks the doctor, "What do I have to do differently, with twins?"

"First off, you're going to have to gain more weight, and get much more frequent checkups," Dr. Watanabe says seriously. "This does explain the early and excessive vomiting, actually. And I'd advise you to look into hiring a doula, which is a pregnancy and birth coach, and a nanny, because if one baby is near-impossible for a single mother, two will be far too much. Bottom line: you can do this alone until maybe six or seven months, and then if you don't get help, you're in trouble, I can't stress this enough."

Kahra nods frantically and replies, "Then I'll get help."

Once back at home, she looks down at her belly again and thinks, for what must be the fiftieth time, _Twins. Two. A multiple pregnancy. Kane, you sure were virile, especially if they're fraternal like the doctor thinks they are._

It's so much to adjust to, and she'll need time for all of this to fully sink in. But that night, she dreams of "Kane" again, with his hair in an updo and wearing fabulous clothes, telling her, "I hope there are two, Kahra. The more children there are, the faster I rebuild my tribe. Do you think you're carrying twins?" he asks hopefully, laying a hand on her belly that isn't rounded at all.

And she has the sense that this is strange, like she's not _really _pregnant. She thinks to herself, _Oh, I wish there were twins for you, but a dead womb can't produce even one, my king. I would give anything for there to be a child or children, but there's no baby here, just a lie._

But she smiles a bright, hopeful smile and tells him, "I don't know, we'll just have to see," while thinking, _We'll never see._

He smiles back before he proudly looks down at her belly, like this is a major accomplishment, impregnating her. Well, it is, isn't it? If it were true, he would have continued his royal line, the one Taishakuten thought he'd wiped out. He's told her that yes, he was in negotiations for the hand of another tribe's princess, and he'd been looking forward to starting a family. But the god-king ended that potential love and family, and Kahra feels so bad that this family isn't real, at all. Poor, poor lonely king, who had so much taken from him for following his conscience.

"My lord," she asks him softly, hating herself for perpetuating the lie, "would you prefer a son or a daughter?"

He thinks on that, his mouth twisted to the side in effort, then answers, "I would _prefer _a son, but I'd be happy with a daughter too. If you're carrying twins, who knows, I might get both. And I'll make damn sure neither of them turns out like Shashi," he mutters in disgust, making her heart sink in shame again.

Oh, Shashi. She takes after her father, a cunning and ambitious man, while Kahra takes after _her _father, a quiet and shy man, according to their mother. Shashi's father is the one she married, but Kahra knows of her father, since there's no point pretending he wasn't different than Shashi's, given the sisters' almost completely opposite coloring. Maybe if Kahra's father had been around instead of Shashi's, the paler but darker-hearted former priestess wouldn't have turned out to be so ruthless.

Kahra forcibly turns her attention back to the man she loves, and bravely says, "Shashi was just led astray by Taishakuten, and –"

"Don't give me that," he suddenly snarls, making her afraid. "Shashi knew damn well what she was doing, Kahra, and don't you try to sugar-coat her choices! _She _shares responsibility for my city's ruin too, because if Lord Ashura had been alive, I can guarantee you he wouldn't have let _this_ happen!" he bellows in rage, sweeping an arm out to indicate the ruins.

Kahra's made a mistake, she knows it. He grabs her arm, leans in, and hisses his words into her face: "Stop making excuses for that _bitch_. I don't care if she's your sister and thus my child's aunt. She's evil!"

Tears slip down her face at that, and through them she can see his face soften, suddenly become guilty. He wipes her tears away with a hand that's almost shamefully gentle, and sighs, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry. But Kahra, please, don't ever try to defend her again, all right?"

"All right," she manages, her voice quavering and her heart pounding. Because after all, this is an intimate gesture, a kind one even, and as always, it startles her that his moods are so mercurial. Oh, his broken mind…

He seems about to say something else, then pulls his hand back and turns away, walking off and sighing, "If you need me, I'll be down at the training plaza," over his shoulder.

She stares after him until he leaves her sight, then hugs herself around the waist, wrapping her arms around her belly that bears no child. Dead womb, empty womb, and she never even menstruated after her suicide. She wonders how he didn't notice that, given the way they slept together as often as possible.

"I wish I hadn't tried to kill myself," she whispers to the stalactites on the cavern ceiling. "Then I might actually be able to bear his children."

_Bear his children…_

_Bear his children…_

"His children," she mumbles in her bed, then suddenly realizes that she was dreaming.

She opens her eyes and shakes her head hard, confounded at what her subconscious threw at her. What a depressing, gloomy, falsehood-filled, and angst-ridden dream that was, and the scariest thing about it was that it felt so realistic. She stares up at the ceiling with a hand to her forehead, and tries to calm down.

How odd. How frightening. How _not normal_, to think what she thought and "know" what she did, like she would have if it had been real. But she didn't think his name in her dream! It felt like she knew it, but now that it's gone she can't remember what it was. She remembers Shashi and Lord Ashura, but why not "Kane's" real name? It's indescribably frustrating, and she turns over to her side with a growl.

And then she starts to cry, because this time, she _is _really bearing his children, and he's not here.

.

It's three months later, and Kumaraten too is having dreams, visions, and voices in his head. He's more than a little scared of them, and is right now picking up the phone to call his psychiatrist. After all, he's never had hallucinations before, and they're a sign that something is very, very wrong. Is he finally starting to lose it? Has this obsession with Kahra/Reika done his mind in?

He gets an answering machine, and hangs up in a fit of pique. Well, shoot. Oh well, this gives him time to list all the "hallucinations," and he decides to write them down, actually. He sits at his computer, and types them all in:

"– Myself, wearing my hair in an updo and clad in Indian clothes.

"– An underground city carved out of rock with a bustling population and lots of flowers, and that city in ruins with no one else there, and no flowers at all.

"– Uncle Agamya, with a twisted body with no legs, six arms, and a long beard, also wearing Indian clothes.

"– Kahra (?), with super-long hair and the inevitable Indian clothes, faking a pregnancy that's mine.

"– A fantastic sword, one I think will let me defeat some sort of evil villain because she told me it would, but she was lying and I can't use its power.

"– A little boy named Ashura, wearing (big surprise) Indian clothes, with pointed ears like some sort of 'The Lord of the Rings' wannabe. I want to sacrifice him (!) to awaken the sword because that's what she told me to do, but then she tells me she was lying.

"– Kahra dead, with blood on her forehead where there was a teardrop-shaped ruby, and I'm clinging to her body and waiting for the cavern to collapse and kill me too. And that's what I want to happen, because I want to be with her."

He rereads this, and whistles a low, almost appalled whistle. No, these are _not _normal thoughts, and they're violent and depressing and offensive, especially the idea that he'd kill a little boy. For much-needed revenge, but seriously, Dr. Tanaka will hear these and say urgently, "Okay, it's into the hospital you go, Kumaraten, before you start trying to actually sacrifice a small child. Sit right there, I'm calling an ambulance and they'll bring a straightjacket."

That gives him pause. He's never been in a mental ward, but one of his friends has, and he whispered what an ordeal it was. No privacy, and Kumaraten's a very private person. Constant supervision and group work, and Kumaraten hates being hovered over, and dealing with crazy people too. Bad food and harried nurses and violent outbursts from other patients, and the constant telling of your story when you've told it to fifteen other health professionals already. All of those would make him grumpy and prickly, and then he'd never get out until the happy pills started to kick in.

He glances back at the word "sacrifice," shakes his head, and looks over to his phone again. Because what if these hallucinations get worse? What if he starts imagining himself actually killing Ashura? What if he sees a boy on the street who looks like him, minus the elf ears, and snaps in public? For the safety of everybody else, he should tell his doctor.

Then Akira sighs in his memory, _"If you weren't already going 'round the bend, it's enough to drive you nuts. Don't ever go in there, unless you can't know the difference between reality and your thoughts."_

And that last sentence gives Kumaraten pause. He _does _know the difference! Yes the thoughts feel real, and when he dreams it's like he's living a prior life, but he's certain that they're not truly what happened. How can they be? Oh sure, his religion says we're all on a journey of reincarnation, but Buddhism stresses that we can't retain any memories of what came before, unless we're an abbot or something. And he's not very devout, at all.

So Kumaraten decides that no, he _won't _tell anyone else unless it escalates. If he starts to have hallucinations in public, not just flashes of "memory," if he starts to see that demon Taishakuten coming at him with a ludicrously big sword, _then _he'll tell Dr. Tanaka. But until then, he'll keep it all to himself.

He closes the document without saving it, sighs, thunks his head on his computer desk, and goes back to trying to find Kahra. It's an unusual name and that narrows the field, but every picture he sees isn't her. Well, should he maybe hire a private investigator?

He snorts inelegantly and shakes his head. Why yes, of course, that'll work _perfectly_, giving the guy two not even full names that might not be real, no picture, and no background info besides, "Well, she was at this bar called Douketsu, and she said she'd been visiting her family's grave in the Aoyama Cemetery. Her skin was brown, she had beautiful shining blond hair, and her eyes were green, and she was wearing modest clothes that nevertheless showed off a nice figure."

Yeah, _that _would sure make it easy to find her. Not. Tokyo is one of the biggest cities on Earth! She might not even be from Minato-ku, she might be from – from Chiyoda-ku for all he knows, because she might well have moved away from the special ward where her family lived. And being such a major city, there are many women with her beautiful coloring. He wishes more than ever before that he either had a picture or he was good at drawing, because even a sketch would be far better than nothing.

He growls to himself, clicking yet another link, hitting yet another dead end. Why is this so hard? Why do all these bad things happen to him? It's not like he's a terrible person, at all. So okay, maybe he picked on that one geek in school, but he actually sought him out and apologized at the last class reunion, so those unsavory actions have been rectified. And okay, maybe he shouldn't have slept with a drunken woman, but he's trying to rectify that action too.

_Uncle Agamya will say it's payback for a past life, _he sourly grumbles in his head. _He's religious. I still don't know if I actually buy into that part of Buddhism, though._

_._

And now, Kahra is six months pregnant, which is easy to tell. Her belly's rounded out, and if she feels too big now, she can't imagine what the end of the third trimester will be like. The babies, both male, are growing fast, and if someone were to put their ear to her belly, they'd hear heartbeats if the fetuses were in the right position. They can hear sounds now, so she talks to them a lot, telling them all sorts of things, from "Mommy's eating eggs now," to "Ooh, I love this song!" to "I can't wait to see you, little ones. But would you please stop kicking so much when I'm trying to rest?"

It's such a strange sensation, feeling something move in her womb. She feels guilty that it kind of makes her uncomfortable, because aren't mothers supposed to rejoice at that? She certainly rejoices that they're healthy enough to move, and that they're growing, but it's honestly not very fun to have the babies press against the wall of the uterus with legs or arms. She can only imagine that women who didn't want to be pregnant, and were denied the right to abortion by religion, must despise that sensation.

The skin on her belly is dry and itchy too, but thankfully she has lotions. Exercise helps take her mind off pregnancy woes, and after all, exercise is very important for a pregnant woman (just not certain types that would hurt the babies). The morning sickness has thankfully left, and she fervently hopes that it won't come back. But the cravings are still present, it seems constantly, and she actually experienced pica (the desire to eat non-food), in her case dirt and laundry starch. She resisted that dangerous urge and immediately called her doctor, who quickly put her on an extra iron vitamin.

It's amazing, all the changes women go through when they're pregnant. It took over her life! Everything she does, she has to think on how it would affect her unborn children. She has to make sure to eat the right foods, she has to make sure to drink extra water, and she has to make sure she's gone to the bathroom or can get to a bathroom when she goes places, because there's extra pressure on her bladder.

_Sometimes I hate being pregnant, _she reluctantly admits to herself as she drives to the pregnancy class. _I mean, I want to be pregnant and I love them, but this is stressful, frustrating, and full of embarrassing mood swings. When I started bawling at that little girl scraping her knee on the sidewalk, that was almost humiliating._

She's been advised to take the pregnancy classes at six months instead of seven, due to the fact that many twins are born prematurely. That's a scary thought, that they might not be fully developed when they come out into the world. Preemies spend a lot of time away from their mothers, which is incredibly hard on the parents. After all, here you've waited and suffered for many months and anticipated holding your newborn, and you barely see them at all. She can only hope that if they are born prematurely, everything will turn out all right.

The pregnancy class is both helpful and difficult. All the other mothers are peppy and younger, and most importantly have husbands with them, some of which are so excited it's annoying. And then there's Kahra, ten years older than the oldest of them, all by herself and the only one with twins. Nobody ever says anything about her lack of a husband, but she knows they talk about it when they leave. Oh yes, differences always mean gossip, all around the world.

That night, she sits down at her computer, and for her own peace of mind, she writes the baby daddy a letter. She knows he won't get it, she won't post it online or anything, but it's journaling, really.

" 'Kane,' " she types with trembling hands,

"I wish you were here. I have to admit that I haven't had much time or energy to spare on finding you, since your children take up all of my attention. They're healthy, as far as we can tell: no diseases, no malformations, no genetic problems like Down Syndrome and such. They're also very active.

"I wish, like nothing else in the world, that you could be here with me. I think about you every night and every day too, although at times I have to admit I curse you in my mind for doing this to me. Then it passes, and I feel bad that I thought that about our children. And after all, you didn't do it on purpose, plus _I _was the one to walk out on _you_.

"I think I love you. I keep having all these fanciful 'memories' about us in some fantastic world, living underground with an ancient man, with a freaky body. But in those 'memories,' I feel so desperately in love with you, which I think is my subconscious's way of telling me I love you here, now, in this real world. I know it sounds stupid, since we were only together for less than eight hours, but I believe in love at first sight, given my parents. And I felt like I knew you, like our souls were familiar with each other.

"The hormones wreak havoc with my mood. I can get so angry over a letter to the editor in the paper, to the point I'm swearing at the walls. Or I start crying for no reason. It's very strange, and I don't like it."

And there is one more embarrassing thing the hormones do: they make her pretty darn horny. She'll be talking to a handsome customer and suddenly get turned on, with her nipples becoming noticeable, how mortifying. No one ever says anything but a few take a good long look, and while she has no conscious desire to hop into bed with them, her body responds to studly men. All alone at night, she remembers the father of her children and recreates his touch as best she can, so often it's almost an erotic routine.

That's when she misses him the most, biology screaming, "HEY! My sex drive is ramped up, why aren't you here to take advantage of my increased flexibility?! Kane, I need you here to make me feel good, because it's not the same with just my hands and the naughty use of that vibrating massage pillow!"

She bites her lip and thinks about leaving that out, but decides that since he'll never read this, it's fine. So she types in, "I feel like a nymphomaniac. I want your body again, so badly I considered buying myself a sex toy as a substitute for you. I think I might actually have to, since the massage pillow and my hands only do so much. I feel like such a pervert using the pillow for that, but damn it all, pregnancy hormones mean a sex drive gone haywire, and it's not fair that I can't have a partner with me.

"I guess the most common emotion I feel in regard to you is loss, followed closely by desperate hope that we'll find each other again. I wish you would just show up on my doorstep, and never leave. If you did, I'd tell you everything, and kiss you until you turned blue for lack of oxygen. Somehow, I know you wouldn't mind too much.

"Love, lonely and desperate love,

"Kahra. That's my name, not Reika."

When she reads it over, she cries again, loud sobs that scare the babies. What's going on? Why is Mommy sad? They don't like it, it distresses them. One of them even puts his hands over his ears to blot out the noise, as his brother tries to get away from it but can't go very far.

She lays a soothing hand on her belly at that, trying to calm them down, and thinks to herself, _If there's any good in this universe, he'll meet his children someday. __Please__._

.

.

(AN: "Haka" means "grave" in Japanese, "Kane" means "golden" or "accomplished," and "Shirobotan" means "white peony," because I'm pretty sure the flowers shown in Kusumapura were peonies. "Reika" means "lovely petal," which I chose due to her job. "Agamya" means "knowledge/wisdom" in Sanskrit. An actual canon name for the Old One would have been nice, especially since the Yasha tribe had an Old One too, but once again CLAMP left a blank.

If you were wondering why this started in 2010… blame the year I posted "Four Feathers," which was 2011. Since there are so many couples, some had to be dealt with before 2014.

Please review this. Feedback is the best way that a reader can influence a writer and help them improve. See problems? Tell me what they are so I know to avoid them next time!)


	4. Enter the Peacock

**Chapter Three: Enter the Peacock**

It's only a day after Kahra wrote the heartfelt letter she'll never send, and Agamya is over at Kumaraten's house again. October is a most difficult month indeed for Kumaraten, and the later it gets, the worse it gets. Winter's stalking closer, and while for now there are beautiful leaves and even a few flowers, there's a chill in the air and the days are getting shorter. And of course, the knowledge that things will just get colder and darker is annoying at best, and depressing at worst. To top it off, it's raining today.

Agamya stares into the bottom of his teacup, as Kumaraten sets his empty one down and stands up. He meanders over to the darkening window, and as he sighs and places a hand on the glass, Agamya looks up and says kindly, "You can tell me what's wrong, you know. I know you still haven't found her, but don't try to lie and say there isn't something else, Kumaraten."

"I keep having hallucinations, Uncle Agamya," his great-nephew reluctantly tells him, staring out at the rain soaking his garden. "They're becoming very frequent, and they're disturbing. You're there, but instead of legs you have this bulbous lower body and four extra arms, and you get around by floating off the ground. And she's there, the woman from the bar, and she says she's pregnant with my child but she's lying to me, and I believe her."

Agamya is silent, letting Kumaraten go on, "And we're in these ruins of a beautiful city, one that was burned and ransacked, and I want to avenge it because I was its king. It's insane, Uncle! And sometimes I have visions of the city before all that, with flowers all over and people singing, and little kids running here and there, and it's heartbreaking to know that I caused it to be destroyed. I mean, I wasn't the one who gave the order to erase it from the map, but I defied this horrible god-king person and he killed the city in retaliation.

"I'm losing my mind," Kumaraten whispers in a cracking voice, watching a peony bush get battered by the rain. "But other than that, I don't have any other symptoms of insanity. And all the time, every spare moment I'm not concentrating on what I'm doing, I'm missing Kahra and obsessing over finding her."

Agamya gazes at his back, and then says quietly, "You know, I'm wondering if it isn't a past life you're getting flashes of, Kumaraten."

Kumaraten jumps at that, startled, and whips around to demand, "Uncle Agamya, why do you think that? Past lives are a religious fairytale that I, as a scientific-minded man, do not believe in." But even as he says it, part of him believes Agamya's words, and is relieved to hear that someone thinks he's not going insane.

Agamya shakes his head and firmly replies, "Just because you don't believe in something doesn't mean it isn't real, Kumaraten. There are some things science can't yet explain, and the Buddha says we've all lived multiple lives. I know you're not religious, but I've lived longer than you have and encountered things I _know _were not completely of this earth.

"Now, I have no inkling of being in a body without legs, but that doesn't mean I wasn't. It sounds to me like you're remembering this for a _reason_, a reason I don't know. But meditate! Chant some sutras, burn some incense, talk to a priest or monk. Pray, and ask the gods to show you what to do," he urges with great solemnity.

"Religion won't find her," Kumaraten shoots back, then heaves a defeated sigh and admits, "But maybe, just maybe, you have a point about the past life bit. I mean, it all seems so real, and it's all so constant, no contradictions. On the other hand, I find it very hard to believe that I was a god who could wield electrical forcebolts of some sort, since I can't do that here."

Agamya shrugs, and almost breezily says, "Maybe you were, maybe you weren't. If you were, though, everything in this life has a purpose. Were you a cruel god?"

"No. No, I was a – well, all right, I did want to wreak terrible vengeance, but only because of what this Taishakuten character did to my people. But if we're going off the past life theory, I suffered so much there, why am I suffering so much now?" Kumaraten demands, folding his arms in grumpy disdain.

Agamya doesn't have a good answer for that one, just bites his lip and looks away. Taishakuten? The Zen Buddhist form of the Hindu Thunder God, Indra? God of the center, and the commander of the Shitenno, the famous Four Heavenly Kings? Well, stranger things have happened, and Agamya is a man who has studied a lot, listened to both science and religion, and come to suspect that perhaps the legends here are what actually happened on a different plane. He has no hard proof of this, but his wise soul believes it. So he finds all this quite surprising, but it's not implausible that a god known for his cruelty in the legends might've done worse things on his plane.

Agamya also knows not to push Kumaraten now. He's got his upset face on, and Agamya well remembers childhood and teenage outbursts. Granted Kumaraten hasn't hurled any antique teacups at walls for nearly twenty years, but still. Agamya can tell that what his great-nephew needs right now is time to process his suggestion, and wrestle with it all by himself. That's how he is. Some people need to talk things out to understand them, others need the privacy of their own minds.

So the old man makes his farewells, suddenly hugging Kumaraten around the waist at the door. Kumaraten blinks in surprise, then nearly crushes him in a hug of his own, thankful for this encouraging gesture. Agamya can't stop a squeak of "Not so hard, boy," and Kumaraten hastily relents, but they smile at each other as Agamya waves goodbye.

When Agamya's gone, Kumaraten stares at himself in the mirror, and seriously asks his reflection, "Well, _were _you a god?"

No answer, but of course he didn't actually expect one. He sighs in defeat and turns away, pondering all of it, for days on end. Part of him thinks the past life idea makes a lot of sense, given the powerful attraction to Kahra and the way he keeps thinking that's her name, but another part scoffs that Agamya's a few crayons short of a box. He is, after all, eighty-eight years old, and senility is common in older folk. Still, when Kumaraten dreams at night, it's often of the ruined Flower Capital and of Kahra.

And yet, there's this… barrier in his mind, a wall that keeps him from fully believing that he's a reincarnated king. Parts of that life are still buried in his psyche, and while some days it seems more plausible than others, much of the time he still thinks he's going nuts. But he never tells Dr. Tanaka that! So enough of him believes that it's possible, or at least doesn't want to be shut up in a crazy house. It's a conundrum, and it makes him irritable.

_I want my brain to go back to normal, _he grouchily thinks as he makes himself some tea. _I want my life to go back to normal! I want to find Kahra, I want to stop having these weird visions, and I want this tea to steep faster. Oh, and I want a raise, but seeing as all the other ones are impossible, that one fits right in._

_._

A month later, Kahra's scarfing down praline bonbons, having undergone an acute craving for them. Mmm, bonbons! This is actually one of the normal cravings, because leaving aside the pica, she actually ate peanut butter and sushi, raspberries and potato chips, and radishes on ice cream. Yummy… not. Well, to her they were, and she consoles herself that she's craved regular food too, from cake to udon, and everywhere in between.

She finally puts the box down on the coffee table, having satisfied her all-consuming need for nummies, for now at least. It's time to get back to what she was doing, preparing for something very placed an ad online asking for a doula/nanny, mentioning that she's a single woman with impending twins, and no family to help her. So far she's gotten seven responses, and the first one is coming over for an interview.

She glances down at the note she made about it, making sure she has the right name. Karasu Kujaku… what an unusual and very avian name. Oh well, Kahra's past caring about names by now, and if Karasu Kujaku is the best candidate, she'll hire her. And she'll be here soon, so Kahra putters around making her house even neater, makes herself some tea, and is just pouring some for Kujaku when her doorbell rings, and she moves over to answer it with a smile.

Oh. This isn't the nanny! This is a beautifully handsome man, one with hair so black it has a purple shine, long-lashed violet eyes, and a bright and shining grin. He's holding a few sheets of paper and waving at her. Darn, he's some sort of solicitor, she thinks as she asks cautiously greets, "Hello sir. How can I help you?"

"No no," he laughs gaily, shaking his head, "I'm here to help _you!_ I'm Karasu Kujaku, and I'm responding to your ad that you needed assistance with your upcoming twins."

Kahra simply gapes at him, and her first instinct is to squeak, "I don't want a male assistant! How do I know you won't assault me when I'm too big to fight you off?!"

"I'm a registered nanny," he assures her in a chipper tone, holding out those papers. "My résumé and references are here. I'm great with children, I can probably change diapers in my sleep, and I think you'll never find anyone else who gets what you're going through. Despite the whole being a man and having no kids thing," he finishes with a wink.

Kahra faces a quandary as she reads the papers in a daze. Dear lord, this man has experience with children! He's accredited with a number of childcare organizations, and the list of references is very extensive. But c'mon, he's a _man! _It's simply not smart for a single woman to have an unknown man traipsing around her house, with such free access. Logically, the odds are he'd never harm her given his credentials, but how is she supposed to discuss contractions and sore nipples with a man who isn't a doctor or her partner?

Almost as if he read her mind, he says cheerfully, "Oh, I'm very in touch with all the trials and tribulations of pregnancy. If you call this lady here –" he jabs a finger halfway down the list, "– she'll tell you how well I handled it when she went into labor four weeks early, and I had to drive her to the hospital and help care for the preemie. The kid turned out fine, perfectly fine," he pleasantly informs her.

And then, something happens in her mind. Something deep, deep inside opens the "trust" door, and she smiles at him and asks, "Won't you please come in, then? I have tea ready."

"Ooh, I love tea! And I'd love to come in too," Kujaku grins, doing just that. Once inside, he nods at the tidy house and chirps, "Such a nice house you have. I like the bonbon box open on the coffee table, on top of Ripening Summer. Gotta have those bonbons when you need 'em, and weighty literature gets so hard to slog through sometimes," he says with exaggerated seriousness, and she has to laugh.

"I forgot about the bonbons," she chuckles, then shoos him into the kitchen with a pleasant, "Your spot is on the right."

How odd it is, she thinks as she sits down, that she suddenly feels comfortable with this man. But maybe it's one of those signs, that Kujaku is the right candidate for the job. As he tells her more about his experiences, she becomes more and more impressed, and wonders if she should bother asking him more questions. He seems perfect, and his smile is infectious. An infectious smile is good, because so much of her pregnancy has been taken up by tears, angst, and anxiety.

"And I actually did carry the triplets lady to the car," he's saying, then winks and adds, "It was like carrying an extremely unwieldy horse that you had to be super careful with. Luckily they had wheelchairs at the hospital, but boy, did my back hurt the next day!"

Kahra laughs a little, then queries in interest, "Do you still keep in touch with some of them?"

"Sure do. Not all, but most. They send me pictures of their kids and stuff, wanna see?" he asks excitedly, pulling out his phone and navigating to the pictures folder.

Kahra leans over, and sees baby after baby, toddler after toddler, little kid after little kid. Well, that clinches it… Kujaku obviously cares about the families he's helped and not just the money, and Kahra decides that he's gotten the job.

So she smiles at him and informs him, pleasant and thankful, "You're hired, Karasu Kujaku. You're practically perfect for my needs."

"Aw, thanks Kahra. Don't you worry, I'll be the bestest pregnancy and baby assistant ever!" he proclaims with another smile, looking like he wants to get up and slap her on the back, but refraining from such an action. Instead he drinks more tea, then when he puts it down casually asks, "What will their names be, or haven't you picked any yet? If not, I'm sure I could help with that too."

"I'm naming them Kane Ken and Ken Kane," she says seriously, pouring herself some more tea. "Not very imaginative I know, but Kane is their father's name."

_Or he said it was, anyway._

"Ah, yes, the absent daddy," Kujaku murmurs, wearing a studiously neutral expression. "Do you miss him terribly?"

Mood swings come to the forefront, and she sniffles as she confirms, "Very much so. I made a mistake, you see, and if I hadn't he'd probably be here and I wouldn't need to hire a doula-slash-nanny. He likes children," she says in perfect conviction, and gives up on wondering how she knew that. By now those thoughts have become almost routine, and she has no energy to spare on fretting over them.

"Mm-hmm, I bet he does," Kujaku agrees, and it's not condescending in the least. He goes on, in a "Buck up little camper" voice, "Don't you worry, it'll all work out in the end, I'm sure of it. For now, we have to get you through the next two months, and through caring for a double dose of newborns. I assume you've done a lot of shopping? Cribs, onesies, diapers piled to the ceiling?"

"They tell me I'll need ten to twelve a day for each one," she says a bit faintly, her head spinning with visions of overflowing diaper pails. "So yes, I stocked up when they were on sale, and they almost are piled to the ceiling in the basement. I've bought most of the supplies, and the nursery is mostly made up. I've color-coded everything, you know, to give one yellow and one blue."

"Blue is a lovely color," Kujaku says a little wistfully, gazing into space. "I know it's all pastel blue for babies, but really dark, almost midnight blue is my favorite color in the whole wide world. Reminds me of somebody special's eyes."

Kahra is curious, and asks him, "Your girlfriend's eyes?" She sees no ring on his finger so he's probably not married, but surely he's talking about either a significant other or a beloved parent.

Kujaku comes back to earth, gives her a little smile, and replies, "Oh no, I don't have a girlfriend. I was talking about somebody I knew years and years ago. Anyway, back to babies! I'm sure you'll be happy to know I can be available almost twenty-four/seven. Heck, I'll go into the delivery room with you, if you want! I think that'd be very helpful, so it's not just you and a bunch of nurses and doctors."

"Yes, I think it would be," she agrees a bit nervously, thinking of the horror that will be birth. "Just as long as you're not, you know, staring at me."

He shakes his head emphatically and firmly replies, "No worries there. Birth is a miracle and all that, but I don't think anyone but the most obsessed of fathers _wants_ to watch it. Worry not, I won't be staring at your you-know-what! To change the subject, what are your trials now? Like heartburn and such."

Kahra takes a deep breath, and lists the many tribulations of pregnancy: "I had severe and early morning sickness, because of the twins. I have varicose veins, I have so many stretch marks it's depressing, I wake up with heartburn two or three times a night even with medication, I had pica where I wanted to eat laundry starch and dirt – but I didn't, thankfully – my skin is dry and itchy, I'm getting sick of going to the bathroom all the time, I feel like a balloon and it's only the beginning of the third trimester, and my mood swings are awful."

In fact, now she feels pissed, just thinking about all these side effects. Why can't the _father _have at least _one? _Biology is the most unfair thing on the planet, that the dad impregnates the mom and is done for nine months, and sometimes doesn't have to deal with the children at all. Meanwhile, the mother suffers for nine months of pregnancy, through birth and the baby stage, and unless she gets fed up and dumps her kids on her relatives, she raises them until they're eighteen (and even after that, they still need guidance, and more often than not hit her up for money).

She growls to Kujaku, "Most of the time I like being pregnant but there are some times I hate it, then I feel guilty that I hate it, because I want them so much. So I guess the best way to say it is I wish they would miraculously pop out of my body now, fully formed and perfectly healthy, and I wouldn't have to deal with any more pregnancy and giving birth."

"You'll make it," Kujaku insists in an encouraging tone. "You're strong."

She pauses and just looks at him for a moment, thinking that statement over. "Strong"? She's never thought of herself as strong before. She thinks of herself as shy, and quiet, and passive actually, not someone who can take care of herself and conquer obstacles. But she _is _conquering obstacles: pregnancy, trying to find the father of her children, living as a single woman with no family to help her, still running a business while pregnant, and managing not to break down completely when it all becomes too much.

_And I did the right thing in Tenkai too… I did my duty, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do, die and leave him, _those strange thoughts whisper, and she bites her lip at them. Now's not the time for weird fake memories, now's the time to deal with the real world.

So she says awkwardly, "Thank you. But I still need help, which is why I'm so glad you're here."

"Oh yes, I'll be here through all of it," Kujaku agrees, serious and quiet. "Believe me, like I said, I'm here to help."

.

Nine long months have passed since Kahra met her handsome "stranger" in the bar – well, almost, thirty-seven weeks have passed, and she is _huge_. She's had to take leave of her job weeks ago, and Dr. Watanabe actually put her on bed rest this week, which Kahra is both grateful for and exasperated by. Yes it's healthier, but it's so maddening to just lie in bed. She's going stir-crazy already, which is not a good sign, at all. She just wants to get this over with, NOW.

"I want to fast-forward to a year from now," she mournfully tells the ceiling, laying a hand against her belly. "I want to be back to normal with a pair of healthy and adorable one-year-olds, not massively pregnant and 'looking forward' to birth. And I want _him_ here, in love with me and being a wonderful father."

She allows her gaze to roam around the still-dark room. It's 5:56 in the morning, and in January, it's still dark and will be for a while. Oh, how she wishes it were April again, or even May. But really, it's not like she has anywhere to be, save the bathroom and this bed. Kujaku will be bringing up food when he comes, but he's not here yet and she has the familiar crackers to hold her over.

"I don't want to be in bed," she mutters stubbornly, glaring at the ceiling now. "I want to be cleaning the house."

The nesting instinct has _definitely _made itself known. Kujaku has to keep telling her she should stay in bed, and not be scrubbing the floors, or washing the windows, or trying to move furniture around for the kiddos. It's a powerful urge, dating back to when not-yet-human mothers prepared their literal nests for offspring, and just because it's 2011, that doesn't mean Kahra doesn't still feel the need to make the environment ready for Kane and Ken. Kujaku compromises with her: he'll scrub the floor and such, and she can pick out different curtains.

So she lies in bed and frets, and gets up to use the bathroom it seems every five minutes, and gets fitful sleep because it's near-impossible to find a comfortable position. The babies move almost constantly when they're not sleeping, and she has to wonder if one ever wakes his brother up with his wiggling. Probably yes, since they're squished so close together.

Kujaku is a _godsend_, her little brownie helper on steroids. He goes to the grocery store, he cooks her meals, he brings her DVDs to watch and music to listen to, he moves the furniture when she can't stand to have it in the old position, and he talks to her, providing calming words or mental stimulation. Without him she'd probably be a basket case, and he's almost a literal lifesaver. He is, in a nutshell, the only reason she can handle this.

And yet she has no attraction to him, none whatsoever. She of course likes him an awful lot and is exceedingly grateful for his presence, and by now they've become wonderfully close friends, but there's no romantic or sexual bond there. That's a relief, because part of her was afraid one would develop, seeing as he's helping and interacting so closely with her. No, the only man she wants is "Kane," and she's told Kujaku all about him, except she liberally glossed over the sexy parts.

Kujaku listened intently, nodding here and there, and when she was finished, breaking down into tears again, he patted her shoulder and murmured, "The thing to do right now is concentrate on the babies. They're the most important ones now, okay? The more you work yourself up about him, the worse off you'll be."

"But it's so hard when I want him here," she sniffled, trying in vain to stop crying. "It's so hard when I think about him all the time."

"Here's my solemn promise to you, Kahra: when they've been born and you're ready, I'll help you look for him, all right?" Kujaku offered cheerfully, which was in contrast to the "solemn promise" bit. "Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye. …Wow, that's a violent phrase," he muttered, shaking his head, and she had to laugh a bit through her tears.

Now, as she lies in bed, she feels a bit reassured by that promise. Kujaku is so capable everywhere else, surely he'll be capable of finding her bar lover too. Heck, maybe he'll call in some favors with previous mothers he's helped, and one of them is a private investigator, or has a husband who's a private investigator.

Or maybe – maybe one of them will say, "Oh, I know that guy! He lives down the block from me, and he keeps going on about a Reika he met at a bar who ran away from him." Ooh, wouldn't that be perfect?

She allows herself to fantasize about it. She'll call him up immediately, and say, "Kane? This is the woman you know as Reika, from the bar in April. You remember, I –"

"Oh, _Reika!_" he'll sob, sounding positively floored with gratitude. "Reika, I missed you every minute of every day! I painted picture after picture of you, and scoured the city, and was writing a song I was going to get on the radio so you'd hear it and call me! Darling, please, let's meet each other as soon as possible!"

"Oh, _Kane!_" she'll sob back, as the babies look on in interest. "I too was obsessed with you! I have some major, gigantic news to tell you. Do you want it now, or when we meet?"

"I want it _now_, precious holder of my heart. And what's your name? I burn to know your name," he'll say with great intensity, sounding extra manly and sexy.

"My name is Kahra, Shirobotan Kahra. And – well you see, that night together resulted in an, um… I had twins," she'll say as confidently as she can, then rush on, "They're beautiful, healthy little boys, Kane and Ken. They're little angels who don't cry too much and nurse without fuss, and they want to see their daddy too. You're not angry, are you?" she'll ask with a smile, certain that he'll say –

"How could I be _angry_, Kahra?" he'll ask incredulously, with a note in his voice like he's holding back happy tears. "I love you, and I'll love them. I must meet them! Where are you, beloved? I'll rush to your side, and never leave again. And by the way, my name's actually –"

She can't think of one. She tries myriad common male names in her head, but none of them feel right. So she sighs in resignation and decides to stay with "Kane" because it's familiar, even though she's certain that isn't his actual name. She continues her little flight of fancy, in which he arrives at her house bearing flowers, chocolates, and more diapers, and then proceeds to bond with his sons, who giggle and make happy gurgles at the sight of him. Yes, they'll be the perfect little family, and once the infants are in bed, he'll get down on one knee, pull out a beautiful ring, and proceed to propose. And of course she'll accept.

And then these visions will go away, surely. Some days she almost believes she's remembering a past life or something, but then she tells herself to be rational. She firmly believes in reincarnation, but like most Buddhists, she equally firmly believes that one can't remember past lives, because the soul is not static. Maybe once she reaches nirvana she'll remember every second of every life, but that's a long, long ways away. After all, she's no great meditator or religious thinker, just a florist pregnant with illegitimate twins.

No sooner has she thought that than another vision/memory comes: her beloved, talking to the old man when he thought she couldn't hear. She was behind a corner, and he had no idea she was there, snappishly saying to the Old One, "She still isn't pregnant, Old One. It's been almost two years! I'm starting to worry that she might be barren."

She bit her lip behind the wall, as the Old One said seriously, "Conception is a fickle thing, sire. Women who want to conceive try in vain for years, women who _don't _want to conceive get pregnant after one night with a man. Fate is capricious, but surely if you keep trying, she will bear a child. Fate would not be so cruel as to take _everything _from you, my king."

Silence as the king considered this, and Kahra felt hot, ashamed tears come to her eyes. Cruel? Yes, yes Fate _was _cruel, sending her here, dead, and letting her fall in love with a man who wanted a child more than anything, and that's what she couldn't give him. But part of this cruelty was of her own making, lying to him and suggesting that she could bear his child.

But perhaps, now was the time to say she conceived. It was a mere two months before the eclipse, before Ashura would come. Perhaps he was even then awake? And he was, actually, he'd ironically enough just tasted Kuyou's spilled, murdered blood, thus reawakening the evil entity that warned Yasha he would destroy him. Yes, Ashura would make his way here, and it would be time to end the lie. But until then, it was plausible that she'd be pregnant, and that would make her lover happy, for at least a little while.

No sooner had she thought that than he replied in a sigh, "I hope so, Old One. I truly do, since everything else was taken from me. Do you think I should be sleeping with her more often?"

"Uh. Well, sire, I don't presume to know anything about your sex life," the Old One said awkwardly, then gathered his courage and went on, "But the more times you sleep with her, the more chances there are for conception. Maybe you should just take, say, three days off from everything else, and spend it in bed. You'll probably be tired of it after three days, but I can bring food and leave it outside the door, or something."

Kahra lit up at this. Good, she could just say she got pregnant from that! It would be more than plausible. And three days in bed with him… how could that have been a bad thing? She might get sore, though, so maybe she'd make up a healing tonic, she knew how to do that.

"Excellent idea, Old One," his king complimented heartily, and unbeknownst to Kahra he bent down and patted the ancient man on the shoulder. "Yes, yes I think I'll do that. I'll start right now, even, just let me go find her."

That was her cue to start walking again, with a smile on her face that said, "I wasn't eavesdropping! I didn't hear anything about marathon sex sessions! I know nothing."

She came around the corner just as he was about to round it, and he lit up and told her, "Kahra. You will follow me back to the bedchamber."

And of course she did, and once there, things got quite exciting and –

Aw, she has to pee again, here in the real world. For the zillionth time. She groans in exasperation, gets up, and decides that once she's done with that, she'll just have herself a little self-erotic session, even though it's awkward with a giant belly. Necessity is the mother of invention, though, and she's managing to get herself off. That's one thing the books don't tell you, that you have to really work at something that used to be so effortless.

As she goes into the hallway, feeling cramping in her lower belly like she's had since she woke up, she hears the front door open and Kujaku singing to himself – a catchy pop tune. Oh, that Kujaku, always so eclectic. Last time it was a Gregorian chant, done while he was folding laundry. The man is such an oddball, but that's one of the reasons she likes him so much.

So she goes to the bathroom, thinking mostly about pop music, and when she stands up, something happens. This something is a huge sensation of wetness gushing from between her legs, like a dam broke. It's scary, it's uncomfortable, and she stares down at the fluid on the floor, her mind quickly racing back over the past few days. She's had to urinate even more, which was probably due to lightening (when the baby's head drops down into the pelvis), she had brownish discharge that she know realizes was the cervical mucus plug, those cramps were probably the first contractions, and this… is… the amniotic sac breaking in preparation for birth.

"_KUJAKU!_" she screams as loudly as she can, terrified and suddenly more awake than she's been for days. "Kujaku, my water just broke!"

Footsteps can be heard running up the stairs, then his calm voice outside the door coaxes, "Okay, deep breaths. Deep breaths, this is gonna be fine. You just come out here, have some breakfast, and I'll clean it up, okay?"

"Shouldn't we get to the hospital?" she asks frantically, nearly panicking.

"We will, don't worry. But it takes a while for the contractions to get close together, and remember Kahra, labor can take over twenty-four hours! You have time. And you're going to need all the energy you can get."

She takes a deep breath, lets it out, and walks shakily to the door, expecting another contraction at any second. But so far none have come, and she unlocks the door and steps out on trembling legs, asking Kujaku, "Should I lie down?"

"Go right ahead," he soothingly replies, taking her arm and helping her down the stairs. As he does so, he continues, "I can make you anything you want for breakfast, just let me clean up the amniotic fluid. Now remember, the important thing is to remain calm."

Calm? CALM?! She's about to go into labor here, and he wants her to be calm?! Horror stories of birth whirl through her head, because no matter what idiot fundie politicians say, women _do _die from birth complications in this day and age, in developed countries. And even if _she's _fine, what if one or both of the babies isn't? They could be stillborn, and or have the umbilical cord wrapped around their necks and strangling them, or try to come out feet-first, or – or anything!

But she lies on the couch and breathes mindfully, using some grounding skills as Kujaku cleans up the bathroom. All she can do is go with the flow, and try to not get upset, and think positively, because –

ARGH! A _strong _contraction! It feels like her entire reproductive system is being squeezed, crushed even, waves of muscle movement trying to push the first baby out. It brings sweat to her face and makes her breath hiss in between her teeth. But after maybe five seconds or so it ends, thankfully.

Kujaku comes back down, makes her breakfast, makes her eat all of it, gets all her things together, and hustles her into his car. This is it, the culmination of one semi-drunken sex act and nine months of pregnancy, and for a moment it seems unreal to her. Then another contraction comes, and it seems _very _real indeed.

The hospital is fairly close, and once there, she's immediately ushered up to the maternity ward by a cheerfully encouraging nurse, one who mistakes Kujaku for the dad. She isn't the last one, by a long shot, and Kahra gets very tired of the weird looks they get when they tell people he's the birth assistant. Perhaps, she belatedly thinks, she should've lied and said he's her half-brother or something.

"Is this _really _so odd?" she has to ask him as she lies back in bed. "Hasn't anyone else had a male non-relative help them through birth?"

"Well, all the ladies I helped did, but to be honest Kahra, yes it is odd," he admits with a shrug, the nurse listening avidly. "You know how it is, birth is still seen as a female thing, and the only males usually involved in it are the daddies, the doctors, and the kids themselves. I mean, it makes sense, don't you think? Women are usually more comfortable with other women, and I know you have a female OB-GYN. I'm an abnormality, but I'm used to that," he cheekily directs at the nurse, who flushes and looks away.

Labor wears on, and on, and on. The contractions get closer and closer together, until finally they give her the spinal block. Ah, analgesis, you're a miracle of modern medicine, because the contractions were starting to hurt like hell and they're only going to get worse. Kahra is thankful like nothing else for Dr. Watanabe, who's calm, comforting, and even cracks some jokes, and humor really does help.

The contractions come ever faster, and the sun begins to set outside, which she can only tell by the lack of light from the curtains. Soon it's fully gone, and the night grows later and later.

She's now been in labor for _seventeen elongated hours_, and she feels at the end of her rope. Why, for the love of all that's holy, does labor last so long?! Twins definitely mean it takes longer, but she hasn't even birthed one yet. It's been such a huge amount of time, she's scared and so very tired, and she's going to start panicking soon if this first kid doesn't hurry up and come out.

But finally, _finally _she reaches Stage Two: the cervix is fully open, and she can push as if her life depends on it, which it actually does. She's never been so glad for pain treatment in her life, because she can't feel anything below the waist. And judging by the tortured screams of another mother down the hallway, she's only missing excruciating, agonizing pain. Hallelujah, praise modern medicine.

"Doin' good, Kahra!" Kujaku praises merrily, patting her shoulder and disgustingly well put-together. "Okay, here comes another one… PUSH!"

Oh, she pushes. She pushes as hard as she can, so hard she gasps for breath when the contractions end. But they come faster, and faster, and faster, until finally –

"The head's crowned," Dr. Watanabe grins behind her mask, and that's the best news Kahra's heard in her entire life.

The OB-GYN immediately suctions the mixture of amniotic fluid, blood, and mucus from the little one's miniature nose and mouth, and the moment she does he breaks into ear-splitting wails. But Dr. Watanabe gently takes hold of him as Kahra continues to push, and when his shoulders are out, she's able to pull him forwards into the world, then hold him up so Kahra can see her firstborn.

He has his father's olive-green hair, she can tell that even with the blood and amniotic fluid. And oh gods, he's so _tiny_, so red and wrinkled and helpless! He felt huge to get out, but now that he is he looks so small, not a preemie but still smaller than many babies. His mouth is open in a wail, and he has strong lungs, oh yes he does. Poor thing, he must be absolutely distraught, going from his nice, safe, warm womb environment to this cold, unfamiliar place.

"It's okay, little guy," the doctor soothes, cutting the umbilical cord and handing him off to a nurse. "Shh, it's all right. We just have to get your brother out, then you can be by Mommy! What's his name?" she asks the gasping and sagging Kahra.

"Kane," Kahra says faintly. "Kane Ken."

"_Kane's" firstborn – well, I think so, maybe he has others, but probably not, _she thinks weakly as she thunks her head back against the pillow, grateful for this reprieve. _And oh gods, he should be here, he should be sitting where Kujaku's sitting and staring in awe at his son. I want him here! I feel like I'm missing out too, having the father share the experience._

Five minutes is all the time she has to rest. The second child is coming fast, but she can't stop looking over to the door where the nurse disappeared with Kane, and thinking, _My baby, his baby, he wanted this, he wanted the child, he wanted him more than anything in the __world__, he wanted him more than he wanted __me__ –_

The visions are back, filling her mind until she doesn't know what's real and what's not, until the contractions come again. But when they don't, when they subside, she sees that underground, ruined city instead of this hospital room. She sees the Old One instead of the nurses. She sees part of her body clad in rich white clothes instead of a hospital gown. And instead of Dr. Watanabe between her legs, she sees the underworld king between her legs, gasping in pleasure as torches burn on the wall.

Or he's kissing her, hungry and desperate. Or he's blasting targets with energy balls and forcebolts, determination on his face. Or he's staring at the fantastic, cocooned sword, looking covetously impatient. Or he's handing her a plate of food, urging her, "Make sure you eat all of this, for the baby too." Or he's in the bath, his hair loose and wet, looking up at her in pleased surprise as she drops her clothes to the floor in preparation to join him. These, these and a hundred other moments whirl through her head, stopping only for another contraction.

_His name, his name, what was his name?! I have to know, it'll all come completely together if I can just remember Kumaraten's –_

Kumaraten.

YES! Kumaraten, the king of the underworld city of Kusumapura, with his sad eyes and obsessive personality, his angry outbursts and soft touches when they were in bed, all of it. It all comes rushing back, from her first memory of eating a cookie with Shashi to her last memory of collapsing in front of Ashura, and everywhere in between. The betrayal, the Shura Sword, the battlefield, the Old One, her lies, the sex, her false pregnancy, her confession to Kumaraten, and the distraught look on his face that was the last thing she saw. It's all there, and she knows who and what she is now.

Astounding. She's been reborn, and she met Kumaraten here, and then she lost him! Tears come to her eyes again at this, but before she can start to cry about that, another contraction comes. They're coming fast now, for which she is very thankful, because she just wants labor to end. She managed to get Kane out, she can get his brother out too.

And she does, in less than an hour. At least that's one good thing about giving birth to twins – after one, the second is much more apt to come soon. Once the cord is cut for this baby, Kahra gets a good look at him, and she realizes one thing instantly.

She did not bear identical twins, she can tell that by this one's hair. It's also green, but it has the marvelous shine hers does, so it looks darker when wet. And just like his brother and probably every other baby in the world, he's bawling in distress. He sounds the same, but don't they all sound pretty much the same? But for her and for most parents it's a wonderful sound, an affirmation that yes, their child is here and breathing, ten fingers and ten toes, all flailing limbs and face scrunched up in a cry.

"And who is this fine boy?" Dr. Watanabe asks pleasantly, turning him towards his mother before she hands him off to a second nurse.

More tears run down Kahra's cheeks, and she manages with her voice hoarse, "Kumara. Ken for the middle name as well."

She doesn't see it, but Kujaku nods slowly, his eyes dancing over his mask. Unbeknownst to her, he's thinking, _Something triggered the memory, then. Good! I was beginning to think I'd have to whisper it into her ear as she slept._

Kahra delivers the placenta almost on autopilot, still crying. This perturbs the doctor, who asks her urgently, "Are you in pain?"

What kind of answer does one give to that, knowing what one does? She thinks fast, and comes up with, "I'm just so happy it's over. R-Really." She manages to stem her tears, and by the time the babies are back and ready to nurse, she's composed.

Awww. Despite the exhaustion and the shaking of her legs, it's a fantastic thing to see her boys. They're both quiet now, their eyes still closed and their bodies swaddled in blankets, and with the little caps on she can't tell who's who. But worry not, because one of the nurses grins, "The one with the ducky cap is Kumara, and the bunny cap is Kane. We do that for twins, give them distinctive little newborn caps."

"Hello there," Kujaku croons, helping Kahra hold both. "Aw, aren't they just the cutest?"

Actually, no. They're still red and somewhat wrinkled, and their skin is splotchy. They're actually kind of ugly to anyone but the mother, the assistant, the doctor, and the nurses. But to Kahra, they're the most beautiful beings she's ever seen. She wants to stroke a gentle finger down Kane's cheek, but she's kind of holding Kumara too. Fortunately, Kujaku asks if he can hold one, and so now she gets to touch Kane.

His skin… it's so amazingly soft. His little mouth opens as she touches his lower lip, which she recalls is helpful for getting newborns to nurse. Then he closes it again, making a small mewling sound, and she thinks, _You're so precious. You and your brother are the most amazing little people I've ever seen, and it's so astounding that you started out tiny zygotes and will grow up to be adults._

Nursing is awkward at first, and she tries it with Kumara to begin with because she's held Kane more. She wonders if she'll be so OCD about evening out affection forever, or if it won't matter after a while. Kumara seems confused, unable to figure out that he's supposed to be latching on, but when he does – ow! Even though he has no teeth, it hurts because his little bony gums really chomped a very sensitive part of his mother's body.

But as he settles down and nurses contentedly, Kahra stares down at him and thinks, _Your daddy liked Mommy's breasts too. Kumaraten… he finally has twins, and he has no idea._

_._

It's been two weeks since Kahra birthed his children, not that Kumaraten has any concept of that. Nope, all he has the concept of is the fact that he's losing it. His depression is up, and thus his antidepressants are up too. He didn't tell Dr. Tanaka the whole story, definitely not the hallucinations, but he shared that he's missing a woman who ran away from him. Dr. Tanaka made notes, asked some standard questions about side effects, and upped the dosage, which was really all Kumaraten wanted from him. The upped dosage is helpful to a point, because the weather makes things much worse too.

Winter, winter, winter. He despises it! No flowers save the ones inside, dark and gloomy skies, coldness and grumpy people. There's even snow right now, and as he comes back from work, he kicks a clump of it bad-tempered petulance. The sooner global warming gets rid of winter forever, the happier Kumaraten will be.

Maybe, unbeknownst to him right now, he hates winter because Kusumapura was so warm. He could prance around shirtless _underground_, that's how balmy it was. If flowers could bloom all year round, it was practically a hothouse.

And then, there's Tokyo. Certainly warmer than northern Japan by far, but still cold enough in the winters for the occasional snowfall. And this year has been a bad one for snow, just his luck. Oh, it's melting slowly, but they had a downright blizzard just a week ago and it sucks. Majorly. It makes him wish he could fly down to the tropical islands, but then of course, what if Kahra comes looking for him and he's not here?

It's gotten to the point that he hates going into work, because he's so caught up in finding her. He checks his phone constantly, until Mr. Hideki snaps at him to stop. He's started to make mistakes, little ones but they're steadily adding up, and he knows in the back of his mind that he's heading for a talking-to, if not a pay cut. And what can he really say in his defense? He can't let them know the whole, sad story, they'd think he's nuts.

"I'll just have to give them part of the truth: I'm distracted by a personal matter," he grumbles aloud as he hangs his coat up. "Which is very true. And if they ask what they can do to help, I'll tell them more truth: they can't. Nothing but finding her will make this depression stop."

Praying doesn't help, and drinking doesn't help, and jogging on the treadmill until he nearly drops doesn't help, and eating a full bag of his favorite chips doesn't help, masturbating to her memory doesn't help, crying all alone doesn't help, beating his head against a wall doesn't help, nor does listening to music, or watching TV, or seeing a movie, or burying himself in his work, or even taking care of his indoor plants – _nothing _helps! Nothing, not for very long. Talking to Agamya? Nope, not even that, because it's getting so repetitive, as he has nothing new to report.

So now he _does _hire an investigator, giving her the scant information he has. She peruses it with a grim twist to her mouth, and tries to confirm, "You've canvassed the bar and left your info?"

"Yes."

She looks him in the eye and says bluntly, "Sir, I'm going to be honest with you here. If she didn't look for you too, she probably doesn't want any more contact. Don't you think this is getting into stalking territory? Seriously?"

Kumaraten expected that sentiment to come up at some point, and he has a prepared answer. He keeps his temper and says calmly, "If I find her and she tells me herself that she wants nothing more to do with me, I promise you on everything you hold dear that I'll never make contact with her again. You can give my info to the police, even, that's how serious I am about this. All I want is to talk to her, because I never got the chance to talk to her that morning. I mean it, if she says 'no,' I'll leave her alone."

That would undoubtedly be the hardest thing he's ever done, but he speaks the truth. He might actually go commit suicide after it, but at least he won't take her with him like a stalker would. But he firmly believes that she wants to see him again too, because the memories/visions say she loved him. Sure it's stupid to be operating off of supposed hallucinations, but Kumaraten's nearing the end of his rope and he'll take any hope he can get.

When he comes back home after talking to the private investigator, he stares at a shadow on his wall that, to his obsessed mind, looks like the curve of a woman's hip. In reality it's just that lamp over there, and while he logically knows this, he still thinks it looks like her.

Suddenly he has the overwhelming urge to talk, so he says to the shadow, "I'll just pretend you're her, all right? Right, silence means assent. So…

"Kahra, I _miss _you. I think about you every day, multiple times, and every night too. I keep dreaming that you're my – concubine I guess is the best word, though I feel a little slimy saying that. But you're willing, dare I say eager, to go to bed with me, and I keep thinking you're pregnant even though you're not, in those memories. I don't know, maybe you actually are. Or maybe you were and ended it, not like I had any right to tell you not to since I'm not the one actually pregnant.

"So, are you? Were you? If you are, you must be nearing birth. It's been nine months after all," he sighs, putting a hand to his forehead in despair. Wow, that's a long time to pine away feelings and try to find somebody.

"I want you to call me. But maybe you don't want to call me. Maybe you've succeeded in mostly forgetting me, since it's been so long. Maybe you went to therapy to deal with the fallout of our one night stand, but whatever you're going though, it can't be as bad as what _I'm _going through," he mutters in self-pity, unaware that she's currently trying to get two wailing babies to settle down – after only having gotten an hour's sleep last night.

He sighs defeatedly, then pulls himself together and goes on, "I love you. I know I do. I also know that's strange, but there are so many strange things about this that one more can't be the tipping point. It's strange that I felt so powerfully attracted to you, it's strange how you said you felt like you knew me, it's strange that we seemed to know each other's bodies, and that I called you Kahra when I came, and that you left me without even saying goodbye, and now I have those visions!

"It goes beyond 'strange,' actually. Uncle Agamya thinks it's a past life, and I have to wonder if he might be right. I mean, I don't really believe it, but late at night when my mind's not firing on all cylinders, it seems more than plausible," he tells the shadow, clenching his fists. "If it is, then maybe we're _meant _to find each other again, but since we haven't maybe it isn't real at all."

He glares down at the floor, frustrated and weary. Gods, why are things this way? He never hurt anyone! Then again, one of the Buddha's greatest epiphanies was "Life is suffering." Still, it seems pretty unfair that _he's _suffering so much, when people who get their fun hurting others are wealthy with five ditzy, devoted girlfriends, or something.

"I won't stop trying to find you," he quietly tells the shadow, with the matter-of-fact conviction that's almost more powerful than a bellow. "I won't. I swear to you, I'm going to see you again, and what happens then is up to you, but at least I'll tell you how I feel."

.

Two more weeks later, and it's diaper-changing time again. Kahra's gotten very good at it by now, and actually dreams about a never-ending stream of bawling babies with soiled diapers – basically, she dreams about reality.

"AWAAAAH!" Kane wails, flailing around and making it more difficult. If it's hard now, she can't imagine how hard it'll be when her kids learn to turn themselves over and crawl. As it is, he can't seem to comprehend that if he just holds still, this'll be over faster and he can go back to being rocked. Nope, Kane just wails some more.

From down the hall, she can hear an answering "WAAAAAAHHH!" from Kumara. That's how it works. They like to respond to each other, as if their brother is distressed, so too are they. Fortunately Kujaku's voice can then be heard, just barely over the crying, murmuring soothingly while he undoubtedly makes comforting motions.

"Kane, it's okay honey," she says wearily, trying to fasten the new diaper. "See? Almost done, sweetheart."

"WAAAAH! WAAAAH! _AWAAAAAAAAHHH!_"

Gods, this child has lungs an opera singer would be proud of.

It hurts her sore ears, this crying. It hurts her foggy, headache-addled head too. She really, _really _wishes babies came with an on/off switch, so Mommy (and usually Daddy) can have some much-needed peace. But of course that's silly to think about, because babies cry because they need something. They need food, or attention, or a lullaby, or a diaper change, or for the room to be warmer or colder, or for their big sibling to stop teasing them – not that these two have that to worry about. The point is, if an infant couldn't cry, they'd be in a bad place.

Kahra manages to get the diaper on, then to get Kane back into his onesie. Once back in his clothes, however, his bawling drops in volume, because he's not so cold anymore. She holds him to her shoulder and pats his back, walking back in forth with soothing, repetitive motions, and eventually he calms down. He opens his eyes and watches as she sets him back in his crib, and stares up at her as she strokes a hand down his cheek and tiredly sighs, "All better now."

He gurgles a bit, moving his little legs, and if Kumara wasn't still crying, everything would be okay. As it is, Kahra collapses back into the rocking chair, wondering how many minutes it'll be before it's time to nurse again. Sometimes, she truly wishes Kujaku could magically grow lactating breasts and help out.

Kujaku actually moved in, to be available at all times. It raised the neighbors' eyebrows for sure, but they can think what they want, Kahra no longer cares. She finds it hard to care about much of anything besides basic needs and the infants, now.

She feels like a zombie, one who's been undead for weeks. She gets sleep in hour-long or two-hour long increments, because when one baby wakes and starts crying for milk or a diaper change, he rouses his brother to join in. She wants, more than anything else, to crawl under the covers and never come out again, and she wants to _make them shut up_. This is hardship light-years ahead of the pregnancy, it's not fluffy coos and sappy situations like fiction tells you it would be. No, this is awful, in a way the worst thing that's ever happened to her, and if it weren't for Kujaku she would go mad.

But. She loves them, and for all the torment and dark circles under her eyes and the way she never wants to hear a baby's wail again, she would do it all over again. Sure, part of her wishes it hadn't happened when they won't be quiet and she's getting worried that something's deathly wrong, but once that high point of stress has passed, she knows she did the right thing, bearing them. If they were to suddenly be gone, she would break completely. They're her sons, they're _Kumaraten's _sons, and she loves them just as much as she loves him.

Nursing is – well, both comforting and a hassle. It's a hassle because she has to do it pretty much every hour, but comforting because they're bonding with her, and quiet when they're suckling. She's past the point of caring that Kujaku sees her bare boobs, because at least he never stares, and she honestly has the sense that he's probably gay.

Whether he is or not, he seems to be handling this much better than she is, no doubt due to all his practice with other mommies and babies. She has to wonder if Kumara and Kane think of him as "Daddy," but decides that's something to fret about later. Right now, she just wants to get through this newborn stage.

Weeks pass, months pass, and distinct personalities have made themselves known. Kane, who has his daddy's blue eyes, is the more demanding and fussy one, always waking Kumara up and taking longer to calm down. Kumara, who has his mommy's green eyes, is sweeter-natured and easier to calm, giggling an awful lot and fascinated by the mobile above his crib.

"Kumara," Kahra sings to him often, "you're a happy boy! Happy, happy boy! Happy, happy, happy little Kumara!"

Yes, it sounds asinine to an outsider's ears, but there are no outsiders here, except when friends of hers come over to meet the babies. Their reactions are always along these lines:

"Awww, how cuuute!"

"The daddy must've been white with green hair, huh Kahra?"

"Kahra, that Kujaku guy… is he always this cheerful?"

"Look how sweet they are! They want to be near each other."

"I'm surprised you're not totally burned out, Kahra."

When the friends are gone, when the babies are in their cribs, when Kujaku's most likely asleep in the guest bedroom, Kahra remembers Tenkai. Tenkai, splendid land sullied by war and death, full of gods and humans who served those gods. She remembers her life as a human and being so awed by them, and being so grateful to be chosen as an Ashura priestess, never dreaming that she would actually fall in _love _with a god. As a priestess she would've thought that would be overstepping her bounds, but once she met Kumaraten, it felt natural.

She knew of him before, having seen him around court. He was, after all, a friend of Lord Ashura's. They were never introduced, though, and she never gave him a second thought, just lumped him together with all the other tribal leaders of Tenkai. She had a hard time recognizing him when she awoke from that battlefield, but when he looked at her with grief in his eyes and she realized that he'd saved her… she fell for him. Instantly but so hard, and that was why she told the lie about the eclipse and the sword.

Oh gods, did she love him. For almost three hundred years she hid that love, and it grew and grew and grew, and when she finally got the chance to be with him, she jumped at it.

_I was probably one of the most contented concubines in the history of Tenkai, _she thinks as she stares down at a cup of tea, the babies taking a nap. _He never hurt me, ever. I mean, he definitely had temper tantrums, throwing things at walls and being snappish and demanding, but when we were in bed he was so gentle I couldn't believe it._

_He's the one I count as my first. Yes I slept with a couple other men before him here in Tokyo, but I was a virgin with Kumaraten and he really came first. I learned all sorts of techniques from him, and I liked it all, everything. I'd do the most exotic act I can think of if he were here now, _she vows as she looks out the window. _I mean, if I were healed up, which I'm unfortunately not._

It's late March now, and it looks just like it did when Kumara and Kane were born. The snow's melted but it's cold and there's ice, bare brown branches on the trees and dormant grass. No flowers, save the pink peonies in her house that she brought back from the shop. She's still on maternity leave, but that doesn't mean she can't go in and see how things are going, right? Right.

Suddenly, from the baby monitor, fussing. She gets up with a sigh, and meets Kujaku at the foot of the stairs. He gives her an encouraging grin and offers, "You take Kumara, I'll take Kane, okay? After all, Kane nursed just a little while ago."

She nods and they climb the stairs together, and yup, both children are crying. Kumara seems to be a little more distressed, though, so she picks him up with a soothing, "There there, honey, here's Mommy. Let's see… your diaper is fine, so I bet you're hungry, hmm?"

If Kumara had been able to comprehend that and speak, his reply would've been, "Heck yes I'm hungry, Mommy! FEED ME!" As it is, when she carries him out of the room and sits down to feed him, he latches onto that nipple very happily. Yummy, mother's milk!

When he's done, she burps him and lovingly murmurs, "Feel better? Yes, of course you do, Kumara-wara. Aw, such a sweet boy you are!"

As she walks back down the hallway, she hears something startlingly unusual. Kujaku is singing to Kane, and it makes Kahra freeze in shock because that's a _Tenkai _lullaby. It's all about a silly fat Karura boy and a no-nonsense Ashura grandmother, filled with simple rhymes and lots of repetition. She actually had it sung to her by her own mother, and she's dead certain that no regular person here in Japan would know that song. So how does Kujaku know it?

She's opening the door before she knows what she's doing, almost slamming the thing open but remembering the babies in time. As she holds Kumara tight to her breast and Kujaku looks up with a smile, she asks him in an urgent rasp, "How do you know that song?"

Kujaku just sends her a bright, shining grin, and tells her, with cheery but grand intonation, "Well, because I'm from Tenkai too. I figured now's the time to let the cat out of the bag," he chuckles as she gasps in shock, and then he continues, "You knew, lessee, you knew as Kumara was born, if my memory is right, but you were dealing with too much when you came back from the hospital. So I kept my mouth shut."

She moves forward to the crib on autopilot, and gently lays Kumara down as she desperately asks, "How do you know all that, Kujaku? How did you know my thoughts?" It's frightening, honestly, but maybe this is some sort of… god in Tokyo?

"Cards on the table," he sighs, sounding a bit rueful. "I'm not actually a registered nanny, and every single one of those references is fake. But I _did _and do know what to do for pregnancy and babies," he says fervently as her eyes bug out in appalled fear, "and trust me, you needed me more than you needed any other assistant. See, I was _meant _to be your assistant, Fate dictated it, because you desperately required my help, both for the kiddos and for what I'm gonna do now.

"As for Kumaraten, it was no accident you met the dude in a bar. It was no accident you felt safe and powerfully attracted to him. And it was no accident he went nearly bonkers after you left, and he's been trying to locate you ever since. The man's life was hard here, but it's nothing to what he went through in Tenkai. It's no wonder he went off his rocker." Kujaku smiles some more and pats her hand, finishing with, "And now you want to find that obsessed, depressed man. And guess who can help."

"You?" she asks feverishly, seizing on any chance she can. "Please, can you help me?"

"Yes I can, and I will," Kujaku replies, that secretive expression on his face once more. "Haka Kumaraten works at the Hideki Funeral Home, and he lives…" he pulls out a pen and notepad from his satchel, "at 1499 Sakura Crescent, Minato-ku."

Haka Kumaraten, who works in a funeral home. Clearly Fate has a sense of humor, or at least a sense of suitability. And she now wonders if her name and occupation are another sign of that, a florist with a floral name who ended her Tenkai days in the ruins of the Flower Capital, with a man who also loved flowers. Well, when she finds him, she vows that she'll give him many flowers when they're together.

"Thank you," she fervently tells Kujaku. "Thank you for telling me where he is. And for saving me with all your help with Kumara and Kane. I just… it's all so much to take in," she says in a quavering voice, collapsing into the rocking chair.

Kujaku nods his head and nonchalantly agrees, "Yeah, it's an awful lot to handle. You're a reincarnated priestess, I'm not a registered nanny, I'm a reincarnated god who unfortunately can't throw forcebolts around anymore, and you finally have Kumaraten's location. Deep breaths, that's all I can say," he grins, then demonstrates.

She does take some deep breaths, but they can't damp down the anxious giddiness in her chest. They can calm her down a bit, though, and she stares at the cribs, thinking that maybe Kane and Kumara were destined to be born. Oh gods, they're so precious, and Kumaraten would've probably given anything to have twins back in Tenkai. They're a perfect blend of their parents, even with their personalities, although Kumara is actually the happier one but oh well.

"You said you understood," she says seriously, turning back to Kujaku. "When we met, remember? You told me I'd never meet anyone else who knew what I was going through. So who are you looking for? Because like you also said, you're a man who has no children. I think you're trying to find someone too."

He chuckles and pushes back a lock of purple-black hair, saying, "Would you believe me if I told you Lord Yasha? Mr. Stoic Grumpy Guardian Warrior?"

"I have no idea what he was like," she tells him matter-of-factly. "I know what he looked like because Kumaraten recognized him and showed me, but for all I knew he was a jolly man who made daisy chains and wrote romantic poetry."

Kujaku laughs, but not at her, and replies, "He lectured people and probably thought romantic poetry was stupid, and he needed to lighten up in the worst way. But enough about me and my love interest," he says steadfastly, back to being serious again. "Kumaraten works odd hours, but if you show up now, he should be home."

"Do you think I should bring Kumara and Kane?" she asks him urgently, her hands clasping themselves in nervous anticipation. "I mean, don't you think he deserves to meet them as soon as he can?"

Kujaku gives her two thumbs up, and proudly agrees, "Genius, Kahra, you were thinking exactly what I was. By all means, bring the kiddos. Unfortunately, I'm afraid I can't come with, since I've got a family emergency looming. Now, if you waited until tomorrow I could accompany you, but I get the distinct sense you can't wait that long to see Kumie. Giving serious people silly nicknames is something I like to do," he smirks as she rolls her eyes.

So she finds the route to Kumaraten's house with her smartphone, packs the kids into their carriers, has Kujaku help her get everything into the car, gives herself a little mental pep talk, and off she goes. Kujaku waves in the rearview mirror as she drives off, mouthing, "Good luck!"

She'll need it, she thinks as she turns out of the alley. She's suddenly terrified that she'll get hit by an eighteen-wheeler on the way, and lose one or both of the babies, if not her life too. Paranoia… it happens to the best of us.

_Oh Kumaraten, please don't be angry with me, _she mentally pleads as she drives. _For the babies, for my lies in Tenkai, for leaving you that morning. I'm so sorry for the last two, and had I known who I was, I wouldn't have run off, at all. I would have never wanted to leave your side again, because I love you so much, and if you don't love me I'll break down completely._

…_But Kujaku said you were trying to find me. I knew you wanted a child. So you might very well be overjoyed and grateful to have gained two dependents, but I can't help but worry, _she thinks as she changes lanes, the aforementioned dependents still snoozing like tiny angels.

.

Half an hour later, Kumaraten's pacing again, in his living room with the shades all drawn and only one light on. Nothing still, no trace of Kahra, and more and more memories/hallucinations. Damn it all, what more can he do? How else can he search for her? He's searched "Kahra" on every local media site, and each hit comes up as a dead end, it's never her. Never. And the private investigator isn't having any better luck than he is.

Oh, she's been combing through census records, but the sheer volume of possibilities means it'll take a very long time. Kumaraten is actually at the point of wondering if he should help her, because –

_Ding-dong!_

Odd, for his doorbell to ring at night. The only person who would do that is Agamya, and he always calls before he shows up if he hasn't been invited. For a moment Kumaraten considers pretending that he's not home, but surely the lamp can be seen from the street, through the shades. Well, maybe he should just ignore them, because he's not in the mood for a solicitation or a neighbor with a problem.

He's just decided to head upstairs when the doorbell rings again, and he growls in irritation and throws his hands up. Fine, fine! Whatever it is, it had better be important. If it's not, he's going to be very rude and tell them to go away, slamming the door in their face and giving them no farewell. He stalks towards the door with a sullen expression, fully expecting to have to confront a moron of some sort. And if some idiot teenager rang his bell and ran away giggling, he's going to throw something.

He unlocks the locks with a frown, swings the door open with a frown – and chokes on air with a shocked expression. Because it's _her! _The woman from the bar, just like he remembered her, except this time she looks worried and hopeful. She's dressed in different clothes and her hair's a little longer, but those beautiful eyes are the same, as is the lovely face and exotic skin. If this is a dream, he prays with all his heart that he won't wake up from it, ever.

"Kahra!" he cries, reaching out for her before he realizes what he's doing, but before he makes contact the things at her feet register.

A pair of baby carriers, one on each side, each holding a small, snoozing infant, with skin darker than his but lighter than hers. They're probably both boys, judging by the blue for one and lack of pink for the other, but he can't tell what their hair is like because they both wear caps to keep their heads warm. For long moments he simply stares at the little ones, his mouth hanging open and his eyes almost impossibly wide.

Finally he manages a stunned, "Are… are they…?" He trails off, unable to speak anymore. He feels shocked, and at the same time like he knew all along that she was pregnant. But two is a surprise.

"They're yours," she assures him, nervous and with tears in her eyes once again. "I tried to find you and tell you, and I swear I didn't do it on purpose. The one with the blue cap is Kane, and – and the one with the yellow cap is… Kumara."

At this name he jerks his head back up to look her in the eye, and asks urgently, "How did you know that? How did you know my real name? But then again, how did I know you're Kahra and not Reika?" he asks a bit hysterically, taking hold of her arms to steady himself.

"Oh, Kumaraten," she sniffles in her strong emotion, taking hold of his arms too, "because you and I loved each other in a different life, back in Tenkai. Don't you remember? You were the king of Kusumapura, and you found me on that battlefield and saved me, and I lied to you because I loved you. Please, you have to remember!" she pleads fervently, moving her hands to the sides of his face in her need to make him see.

He almost, _almost _does, her words triggering visions again. But that barrier in his mind isn't fully broken, it needs something to completely destroy it. So he too frames her face in his hands, and begs with all he is, "Tell me you love me here, Kahra. Please."

So she says, firmer than she's ever been before, "Kumaraten, I _love you_, here and now, and always."

And even as she goes in for a kiss, he _knows_. Tenkai explodes back into his mind, everything he can remember, and he remembers quite a bit. His childhood, his adolescence, ascending the throne of his tribe, the Old One, all the other tribal council members, Lord Ashura, Kisshouten, Tentei, Lord Ryuu, Taishakuten, the battle, the ruins, _Kahra_ – everything, it's all real.

He _was _a god. He _did _wield electrical forcebolts. He _did _vow to destroy Taishakuten. Kahra _was _lying to him about her pregnancy, she _did _love him, and he _did _die when the cavern collapsed, because he couldn't stand to live without her. He's not just Haka Kumaraten, he's Lord Kumaraten, king of Kusumapura, and he's finally, _finally _found the woman he loves again.

So he kisses her back, like his life depends on it. It's head-spinning, intoxicating, and with a connection like there's never been before. And when he pulls back, he tells her with happy tears in his voice, "And I love you too, Kahra. I loved you in Tenkai, and I love you here, dammit."

She's about to kiss him again because she can't summon any words, but just then Kumara makes an upset noise. His parents look down at him, and he blinks up at Kumaraten, then starts to whine. It's cold! Why are they out here in the frigid night, when this new guy has a warm house they can go into?

Kane starts to rouse at his brother's fussing, and Kumaraten asks rather stupidly, "What's wrong with them? But come in, come in," he urges, taking hold of Kane's carrier as Kahra hefts Kumara's.

Once inside, Kahra unstraps Kumara and lifts him into her arms, apologetically telling Kumaraten, "They fuss a lot. But they do it less than they used to, when they were newborns."

Kumaraten says nothing, gingerly picking Kane up too. This is one of those amazing moments that a parent never forgets, really studying their child for the first time. Kane is beautiful, all chubby cheeks and big blue eyes that match Kumaraten's own, with his hair color too. It's so indescribably fine, Kumaraten thinks as he gently pets it. Gods… Kane's gorgeous, and the former king falls in paternal love with him and his brother right then and there.

"Kahra… thank you," he tells her with his voice still choked up. "Thank you for having them, thank you for loving me back in Tenkai, thank you for finding me now. How _did _you find me, anyway? I was looking all over for you, ever since the day you left me."

"I tried to find you too," she tells him solemnly, jiggling Kumara a bit. "I thought I never would, but then my assistant Kujaku – oh, it's amazing, but he's from Tenkai too, and he knew exactly where you were. I don't know how but it's true, and he's been so helpful. I hired him to help me through pregnancy, birth, and caring for them, and he –"

"Wait, you mean some _other man _was looking at your –?!"

"He's gay, Kumaraten," she almost smirks, amused by his possessive growl. "He told me he loves a man. Anyway," she holds Kumara up to look at Kumaraten, "this one wants to see you too."

Kumara is intrigued. Who is this adult male human? He's paler than Mommy, a lot paler, and his hair is the same color as Kane's, not that Kumara has any concept of what that means. Kumaraten is handsome, stunning long-lashed blue eyes and a yearning look on his face, staring at his second son. Kumara isn't sure if this guy is just another friend of Mommy's or what, but she kept putting her mouth on his and she's never done that before. So maybe Long-Haired Man is special, in some way.

"This is your father," Kahra tells her sons solemnly. "This is Daddy. This is the man who's the reason you even exist."

"Glurgl," Kane burbles happily, and Kumara just blinks.

But Kumaraten grins, tears finally overflowing, and whispers, "Hello Kumara and Kane. You'll get used to me. Since I am, in fact, asking your mother to marry me," he says seriously, staring deep into Kahra's eyes.

They turn teary again, but they're happy tears to match the bright grin. She manages a nod because she can't speak, then leans in over the babies' heads to kiss him again. This is _wonderful_, and it makes perfect sense, doesn't it? They're reborn lovers, soulmates really, and with two children it's logical to take that matrimonial step. There will be adjustments, there will be awkwardness, and there will be arguments and fights, but truly, getting married would be the perfect culmination to over three hundred years of longing.

When they pull back, Kahra eagerly tells him, "Of course I'll marry you, Kumaraten. Of _course _I will. I –"

"Eh – awah – WAAAAHHH!" Kane bawls, hungry and confused. What the heck's going on here? He wants to go home. So of course Kumara, in true twin fashion, joins in with his brother's wailing, making Kumaraten's eyebrows rise in surprise. Whoa, okay, they're a little tandem unit of fussing, apparently.

"Check his diaper," Kahra tells her fiancé with the air of an expert. "If it's dry, he's probably just hungry."

And so nursing takes place once again, as Kumaraten gently bounces Kumara to get him to calm down. This might be a bit harder than anticipated, but he's sure he can manage it. He'll just research baby care online, get some books on it too, and surely with Kahra's help he'll be all right. Oh, and with that Kujaku guy around, things'll be even easier, hopefully.

Once both are fed and burped, Kahra reluctantly tells her man, "I have to bring them back. You know, so they can sleep in their cribs. But would you come with me?" she asks him hopefully, taking hold of one of his hands. "Just to hold me in bed, I mean. I can't have sex yet, I have to wait a few more –"

"Sex can wait," is his understanding reply, as he affectionately squeezes her hand. "If I can just have you near me and hold you, I'll be happier than I've been for almost a year."

She giggles at that, a blush on her cheeks. Wow, this is like joy overload, seriously. Knowing he loved her in Tenkai, knowing he loves her now, an engagement, him meeting his children, and soon he's going to just hold her and be most content indeed doing that. It fully makes up for all the hardship, and she thanks anything that will listen that they're here, together.

And so Kumaraten helps Kahra get the kids back in the car, then simply hops into the passenger seat. Kahra can drive him home tomorrow, it'll be a weekend so he won't have to go into work. As she turns the car on, he asks her, "So where do you live?"

"I live in Shinjuku-ku," she tells him with a smile. "My family and I used to live here in Minato-ku, but I moved when I apprenticed at a florist's shop. I'm a florist, you see," she laughs, and he grins in reply. Yay, they're even more perfect for each other!

"Well, you of course recall how much I love flowers. And you probably noticed all the orchids and such," he replies as she starts to drive.

"I did. Kumaraten, tomorrow, I'll go buy you a massive bouquet of peonies," she fervently swears, and he lays a hand on her shoulder with a pleased, "I love peonies, Kahra. I always wanted to put one of the Kusumapura ones into your hair," he informs her so easily, stroking a lock of said hair behind her ear.

For a moment the only sounds are the road and Kumara blowing spit bubbles, then Kumaraten has to point out, "You said you were looking for me. Didn't you try Douketsu? The bar? I mean, I left my contact information and everything, and a plea for you to call me."

She frowns at the windshield, and flatly tells him, "That was the _first _place I tried. I left my info too, and the bartender promised me he'd pass it on to anybody who remotely looked like you! I guess, since I didn't get a single call from olive-haired men with blue eyes, he must have either been lying or he lost the note. A lot of heartache could've been avoided if he'd kept it," she mutters as she puts her turn signal on.

Kumaraten nods in agreement, cursing that bartender in his mind. Oh well, it no longer matters. He does now wish he didn't have to pay the private investigator, since she turned out to be useless, but oh well, at the time she was the best option. And now he can smugly say to her, "Guess what? Kahra does _not _think I'm a stalker at all, because she loves me too and was trying to find me as well. We're engaged, actually, so take that!"

"Kahra," he tells her in a whisper, "back in Tenkai… after you died, I talked to you. I told you how everything I did, trying to avenge my tribe, meant nothing if you weren't there with me to share it. I wanted you to smile and see the flowers in Kusumapura again, because you were the one I loved and wanted so much. I realized too late that I would've given up my hopes for the Shura Sword if I could have you with me. So when you died, well… I stayed in the cavern as it collapsed, because I couldn't bear to live without you."

She turns her head to look at him, a mixture of sadness and love on her face, and sighs, "Kumaraten, I –"

A car horn blares, making them both jump and realize that she swerved into another lane when she wasn't paying attention to the road. She quickly corrects it with a gulp, then says apologetically, "I think I should concentrate on driving. We can have heartfelt talks when we get there."

"Yes," he says weakly, his heart pounding at the thought of losing her or the babies. "Yes, let's do that."

Once home, Kumaraten carries Kane and Kahra carries Kumara, nearly bursting with excitement to share this good news with Kujaku. She also wants to hug him tightly in thanks, and maybe Kumaraten can slap him on the back, or something. But odd, she doesn't see him coming to greet her, so she softly calls, "Kujaku? I'm home, and Kumaraten's here too."

No response. Is he in the bathroom?

There's a note on the kitchen table, as Kumaraten points out. Kahra crosses to it, picks it up, and they both read it together. And here's what it says:

"Congratulations, happy couple!

"Now things will be all right, and you can live life together unburdened by vengeance, lies, and grief. I'm sorry to say I won't be a part of it anymore, because my job here is done. You see, I came into Kahra's life for a reason, and that reason was a Bhagavaana-given task that involved making sure you two remembered and found each other again. Now, if you'd just gotten your acts together on the night Kahra conceived my job would've been a whole lot easier, but I think I pulled it off pretty well.

"Yes, I've left. If you call my phone I won't answer, not out of spite or because I stole your family heirlooms and am trying to avoid you, but because I have to focus on my next task.

"Don't worry, I've arranged for another nanny! You'll love her, she's very sweet. Think every maternal stereotype you've ever encountered, and times it by three. She'll be calling you tomorrow, and it's best if you don't mention the Tenkai bit except to Agamya, okay? Kumaraten was right, they'd stick you in a mental ward if you babbled on about that.

"Snuggle Kane and Kumara for me. I'll miss the little darlings. I'll miss you too, Kahra, and I wish I'd gotten to hang around with Kumie, but you'll just have to give him extra attention, okay? Good luck, lovebirds.

"– Kujaku"

"He's gone," Kahra laments in a whisper, feeling a hefty sense of loss for her helpful friend. "Kumaraten, he's off to find Yasha, I'll bet. He said he loved him," she explains at his curious look.

Kumaraten takes it in stride, because after all, he never met Kujaku and only met Yasha when Yasha was a child. So it makes sense to Kumaraten that two people he knows little about might be a couple, or at least have a one-sided attraction. Still, it's too bad that he can't thank the guy, because Kujaku gave him a gift, times three. _Maybe _he and Kahra would've found each other eventually, but waiting and worrying and wanting was torture, and now that torture's changed to relieved joy.

So he shrugs and tells her, "Well, more power to him, then. Maybe we can say a couple prayers to help him, since it seems to have worked for you and me. Slowly, but still."

"I will," she agrees, nodding her head hard. "Whatever happened after we died, if Yasha succeeded or failed, somehow Kujaku lost him, I'm sure of it. I mean, I hope he succeeded in killing Taishakuten and just fell off a cliff or something, but you know, Kumaraten… that aura of Ashura's when he claimed his sword was – well, it seemed downright evil," she says in a rush, scared of it even now.

Her fiancé gives her an odd look, and asks, "It wasn't like Lord Ashura's on the battlefield? I was just assuming that was it, that it wasn't _evil_, it was just powerful beyond my comprehension."

Now the former priestess shakes her head, and elaborates, "Lord Ashura's aura was immensely powerful yes, but my nephew's was much darker. So Kumaraten, I don't know, maybe something went wrong. Maybe Ashura killed Yasha, or killed Kujaku even? But I guess we'll never know," she admits, casting her eyes to the floor.

"Do we really _need _to know?" he quietly asks her, tilting her chin back up so she has to look him in the eye. "Does it matter anymore? Tenkai's gone, Kahra. Maybe it still exists on a different plane, but there's no way we can get back to it. Well, perhaps all dead souls go to the Land of the Dead no matter what plane they're on, but you know what I mean."

"I do know what you mean," she smiles, putting a palm on his cheek. "We have each other, and that's enough. And we have them," she goes on, nodding at the babies, both of which are conked out again. "Here, help me get them up to bed."

But first, a diaper change, because Kane wakes up and needs one. So of course, Kumara awakens too. Kahra actually has Kumaraten change his firstborn's diaper, coaxing him through it because he's never done it before. When he finishes, he mutters, "Somehow I get the sense I'll be getting very good at this."

"Oh, you will," she grins almost evilly. "You'll dream about doing it."

But finally both infants are in their cribs. Kumaraten just stands at the side of Kane's for long minutes, watching him, then does the same to Kumara. They're amazing, truly, and he feels a massive sense of pride in them. His descendants, his children, healthy and usually happy, and adorable to boot. _Finally _he's a father, and it's probably one of the best feelings around. Well, except for knowing that Kahra loves him in return, that is. He lays a hand on her shoulder, and she leans her head onto his, and they make a picture-perfect family of Mom, Dad, and two sons.

Finally they close the door, and she leads him to her room with an apologetic, "It's a little messy. I haven't had much energy to spare on cleaning it up."

"I don't care," he says breezily, as she opens the door to reveal an unorganized bedroom. "If you're in it, that's all that matters to me."

"I never knew you were so romantic," she breathes, turning to face him after they walk in. "Back in Tenkai, it was almost like you were making a point of _not _saying romantic things. It drove me to tears, actually," she admits with a sigh.

"Yes, well, upon retrospection, I think I might've been slightly insane," he tells her honestly, unbuttoning his shirt. "I was obsessed, you know that, and had certainly witnessed terrible things. I just had a twisted sense of what was more important, but I promise you, my head's on straight now. Even if a reincarnated Taishakuten murders Uncle Agamya, I'll –"

"Who's Uncle Agamya?" Kahra asks, having a pretty good idea. "He wouldn't be, by chance –?"

"Oh yes, he's the Old One," Kumaraten grins, and they both laugh at the appropriateness of Agamya's name. "Minus the demonic body, that was so disturbing. No, he's a perfect normal elderly Japanese man this time around, who sat through all my angsting about you, and was smart enough to think that my supposed hallucinations were memories. He'll be thrilled to know we got together."

"Why don't you call him?" she suggests in a bright voice, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. "And _then _we can climb into bed."

Well, a few more minutes of waiting won't kill him, Kumaraten thinks as he nods. So he speed-dials Agamya's number, and as the phone rings, he whispers to Kahra, "He's probably already in bed, but he has a landline extension in his bedroom. And –"

"Hello," a cranky and elderly voice says on the line. "May I ask who's calling so late at night?"

Kumaraten glances over at the clock, which informs him that it's only 9:47, and greets, "Good evening, uncle. It's me, Kumaraten. Listen, I have something wonderfu–"

"What's so important you had to wake me up, boy?" Agamya whines, flailing an arm against his sheets on his end, and wearing the stereotypical old man pajamas with a nightcap. "What's going on?"

Kumaraten just beams like the sun, and tells him happily, "I found her, Uncle Agamya! I found Kahra. Or rather, she found me. And Uncle Agamya… I'm a _father_."

.

As the dawn breaks over the horizon, Kujaku cautiously tiptoes back into Kahra's house, one last time. He wants to see the fruits of his labor, because knowing you succeeded and getting a visual confirmation are quite different things. So he practically floats up the stairs, avoiding the creaking ones thanks to the many times he trod on them, and thinks to himself, _One pair down, five to go. But this was a great start, if I do say so myself._

_Kumaraten, you were well on your way to losing it again, _he thinks as he tiptoes down the hallway. _I don't know if you would've become quite as whacked-out as you were in Tenkai, but I'm pleased to say we'll never have to know. Somehow, I have the distinct sense you won't have much of a problem with pervasive, recurrent depression anymore, now that you've got your lovely lady by your side._

Before Kujaku peeks into Kahra's bedroom, he peeks into the babies' room. Both are asleep, although they did wake their parents up a couple times earlier, and darn it if Kumara and Kane aren't the cutest babies Kujaku ever did see. Maybe Ashura was cuter, but Yasha, some of his tribespeople, Shashi, and the midwife were the only ones who saw baby Ashura, so Kujaku feels justified in his conclusion. He moves over to Kane's crib, and smiles down at him with a bit of a tight feeling in his chest.

He _will _miss them, an awful lot. It was almost like being a father, caring for and coddling them since they were born, and he wonders how long they'll remember him before he passes out of their knowledge. Well, maybe Kahra and Kumaraten will tell them about him, although they probably won't share that they themselves are reincarnated gods. But Kujaku knows one thing: the offspring _will _join their parents in the Land of the Dead, because that's where everybody goes if they've been good. Call it Heaven, call it the Elysian Fields, call it what you will… it's the same place.

"Bye, little guys," he whispers fondly, waving at them. "Grow up to be good people, okay? But with parents like yours, I think you'll be just fine."

Then he closes the door as silently as possible, and moves over to Kahra's door. He can tell she and Kumaraten are both asleep thanks to the gifts the Bhagavaana gave him to carry out his task, and yes, they're out cold. But "cold" is not an adequate description for their positions, nuh-uh, nope, no way, no how.

They're curled together, as if each is unwilling to let their lover go even in sleep. Kahra's tucked into Kumaraten's chest, his arm thrown around her shoulders and clasping her close. His hair is loose and hers is strewn all around, and as always, Kujaku thinks how lovely it is. He's willing to bet Kumaraten finds it even more beautiful, just like everything about her, and she undoubtedly finds him the most attractive man in the world. That's how mates _should _be, but sadly many of them find the grass greener on the other side.

Kujaku looks at his friend and his friend's man for long moments, and tells them, so softly he can barely hear it, "You know, you weren't _meant _to suffer so much here. You were _supposed _to stay together after that first night, but hey, all's well that ends well. Your success will help keep my spirits up when things get hard, and even if I fail for everybody else, I'll know I succeeded here. Goodbye king of Kusumapura, and actually good priestess of the Ashuras, and best of luck to you."

With that he's turning away, leaving for his next task. He slips the key under the door after he locks it, and Kahra will know who it came from. But before he turns away, he looks back up at the bedroom window and thinks, _They'll live happily ever after, I just __know__ it._

.

.

(AN: "Ken" can mean "strength" among other things, but that was the translation I wanted. And "Karasu" is "crow," traditionally seen as an omen of bad luck in Japan, poor Kujaku. But as we all know, everybody thinks he's a demon in the manga! If you didn't already figure this out by the title of this chapter, "Kujaku" means "peacock.")


	5. A Hidden Face

**Chapter Four: A Hidden Face**

(Tenkai)

They come unexpectedly, Taishakuten's General of the Southland and his troops, thundering down the road to the Souma village in a cloud of dust and horse sweat. Weapons glimmer in the twilight, no heralds announce their presence. The scouts catch sight of them miles away from the village and run to raise the alarm, and not all of them make it back. Arrows take some of them out, and swords and fast horses take care of many others. No one can be left alive, it was so decreed.

Princess Akuti and her beloved parents have just finished the last meal they will ever have together when the frantic, terrified alarm is raised: "We're under attack! Zouchouten's coming!"

It could have just as easily been Bishamonten or Koumokuten. The Souma lands are in the Eastland, where there are no member of the Four Gods or Guardian Warrior, not since Jikokuten and Lord Purvaa perished in Taishakuten's Holy War (holy only in name). The other Guardian Warriors and their commanders take turns protecting the Eastland, and though a new Jikokuten is rumored to exist, no one has ever seen hide nor hair of him.

But Zouchouten was tasked with destroying the Souma, there is no doubt, so Akuti grabs her dagger and starts to sprint to the gate, to defend her people. It's all she can do, to try and stall their attackers long enough so some can slip away and –

"No! This way," her mother says firmly, dragging her in the opposite direction.

Before Akuti can protest, a tribesman running by urges, "Hide, flee, my lady! My lord," he says fervently to Lord Souma, "we'll put up as much resistance as we can, but you must go fast. Alchemists and healers can only do so much against the Imperial Army, after all."

And so they run, into the forest as cries come from all around, cries like, "It's the god-king's army! His assassins have come for us!"

"After the Holy War," Lord Souma growls as he halts, "we acquiesced to serve under the new god-king, Taishakuten. Just like we had the former god-king, but it seems he's found out about our Souma legend."

Akuti clings to her mother's arm as he goes on, "He's afraid that someone from our tribe will give the legendary _Eternal Life_. That's why he's decided to exterminate all of us. Begging to have our lives spared is useless," he sighs morosely, and his daughter bursts out, "No! If we escape far enough away, where Taishakuten can't find us –"

"No, my daughter," he tells her wearily, looking her straight in the eye. "There is no place in this world safe from Taishakuten. That is how great the god-king's power is."

His wife Mata traces Akuti's cheek, and tells her with great solemnity, "The least we can do is hide you from Taishakuten's eyes. At least you can escape to survive somewhere far away."

"Mother, why?" the princess pleads, knowing full well what her parents plan to do. They plan to stay, to die, and Akuti wants to beg them to come with her – but three people are easier to track than one person. Still, they can't do this! They can't just –

"A young girl like yourself will be in danger of things even _worse _than death if caught by these monsters," Mata tells her sadly, and before Akuti can protest she waves a glowing hand, and suddenly Akuti is almost paralyzed. She chokes out, "Mother…" and collapses, barely hanging onto her parent as she thinks, _I… I can't move…_

"Bring her here," Lord Souma says in a desperate whisper, pushing aside some branches. "Quickly, Mata! I can hear the screams getting louder."

And so Akuti is concealed in the forest, finally regaining enough ability to move move as her mother urgently tells her, "When there's even the slightest chance of escape, you run for it. Understand?"

"No! I don't want to leave you!"

But Mata just turns away without a word, and she has tears in her eyes as she goes back to her husband. They stand tall together, holding each other's hands and awaiting death, resigned but hopeful. Because both _know _Akuti will escape, since she is strong. She is a skilled fighter, she has a dagger, and her woodland skills are superb. She will live, and so they can die, while definitely not happy, at least not in total despair.

"Father! Mother!" Akuti cries, then shuts her mouth with a snap, because horsemen burst into the clearing with swords drawn. Just your average Southland soldier, nothing special, but they will do the job as well as a general.

Simple, vicious moves downward with those swords, and heads are hewn from bodies as Akuti gasps in horror. To have your parents murdered is bad enough, but to have them murdered right in front of your eyes is so terrible it can't be comprehended by someone who hasn't experienced it. And their blood … their blood splashes their only child's face, as she stares in grief at their bodies falling.

_Just yesterday, I was living happily, miles away from this kind of horror. Why… why did this have to happen? Father, Mother… WHY?!_

Their hands are still clasped together, in death. As tears come from her eyes and she claps a hand to her mouth to stifle her shriek of grief, one of the soldiers says, "The daughter must be around here somewhere."

"We still have time 'til dawn," another says nonchalantly. "She can't have gotten far. Find her!"

For a moment she bows her head onto the ground, tears coming from her eyes and unable to do anything. And then, bloodied and distraught, she raises her head and thinks, _I must run… now I'm the only Souma left. If I can run away and survive, I can live on to avenge my people. I MUST! _

And run she does.

Back in the clearing of death, the commander of the Southland Imperial Army has arrived. He appraises Lord Souma and Mata's headless mortal shells with a perfectly neutral expression, then turns to his soldiers and points out, "I see no third body. Where's Princess Akuti? I didn't see her in the village, either."

"She must be fleeing, General," a horseman replies, and another adds, with a nasty smile, "Our men are looking for her. Pretty girl like her can't be very far away."

"I want her unmolested," Zouchouten rumbles, glaring at the grinning foot soldiers. "I mean it. Kill her and be done with it, don't rape her, that's needlessly cruel. In fact, bring her alive to me, and I'll kill her myself," he decides, nodding firmly.

The soldiers heave a unified sigh but nod too, one of the masked guards asking Zouchouten, "Do you want to bring back the heads of Lord Souma and his wife, General? As proof to show Taishakuten you succeeded?"

"That would be wise, yes…"

Ignorant of that conversation but well aware that she's being hunted, Lord Souma's daughter uses all her woodland skill to widen the gap between her and her pursuers. She's a ninja, skilled in moving unseen and equally skilled in not leaving a trail, but she has to balance that with speed. After all, if they stumble upon her, all her light-footed maneuvers will be for naught. And it's impossible to not leave teardrops as she flees, because only a man like Taishakuten could see what she saw and be unaffected.

Her people, her parents, her cousins! Exterminated, all of them, like animals that have served their purpose and have been deemed dangerous. No more Souma tribe, no more alchemists for the god-king.

So her name is Souma now, she thinks angrily as she runs. It should have been Lady Souma once her father died, but now with no tribe left, she's no longer a princess. But as the last of them (as far as she knows, and she's right), it's fitting that she bear that name, so she will not forget. She wouldn't have forgotten anyway, but this lends an almost sacred slant to it, that one Souma has survived and will wreak her revenge.

Not so much on Zouchouten, but if he comes for her she will certainly try to kill him too. No, this is Taishakuten's doing! Zouchouten _liked _the Souma tribe, was while not a friend at least not an enemy, and he wouldn't have suggested that they all die. But Taishakuten loves to destroy as many people as he can, for any excuse he can find. The Souma were loyal, but they were slaughtered too.

_I pray that if I die, _she vows as she leaps over a fallen tree,_ my blood will enable someone else to defeat you, monster! I have that potential, and I'll wait until I find the one person worthy of my gift. And here's something you didn't know, Taishakuten: we can give that gift and not be dying. You'll be dealing with me, and my immortal ally!_

_I swear, as Souma, as the last of my murdered tribe, as the healer and the warrior, that I will stop you! My people won't be forever unavenged, like they were nothing. I'll destroy you, God-King Taishakuten, and before I do, I'll tell you who I am and why I came for you. I would've lived my life your loyal alchemist, but you killed my entire family instead. And for that, you must pay!_

She runs for hours, all through the night, until beams of sunlight filter down from the trees. She knows she should have rested, but she was too afraid, and fatigue is taking its heavy toll on her. Well, perhaps if she just goes for fifteen more minutes, and finds a nice tall tree where she can –

A soft sound makes her jerk her head up, and there, she sees something she never expected to see. A lady on a horse, clad in fine clothes and with what looks like a harp in the saddlebag, just as startled to see Souma as Souma is to see her. She is a gorgeous woman, big blue eyes and long blue-black hair, decorated with elaborate hair jewelry, and on her right hand Souma observes a golden slave bracelet. She's staring at the interloper in surprise, looking a little concerned actually, because is this an assassin?

Souma knows what to do. A witness would tell Taishakuten's soldiers what she saw, so she has to be gotten rid of! The ninja pulls her dagger, fully prepared to stab the other woman to death – but vertigo makes itself known, exhaustion and the aftereffects of shock, and her world whirls around her as she collapses, the long-haired beauty merely observing her as she falls.

And before Souma hits the ground, she thinks, _I guess I won't live after all…_

Lady Kendappa, the royal musician and secretly so much more, gazes at the princess supine in the grass, still clutching her dagger. Kendappa has heard that the Souma tribe was to be killed, and she just happened to be in the neighborhood. She hadn't expected to see any tribespeople, but this woman is definitely a Souma, judging by her dark skin, her black hair, and her emerald eyes. For what reason she doesn't know, Kendappa dismounts her horse and cautiously approaches this unconscious soul.

A quick examination of the dagger reveals the "Souma" character, an affirmation like nothing else. So Kendappa sits back on her knees and thinks, hard. If this woman stays out here, she will die. Kendappa does not _want _her to die, because surely she's seen horror and has suffered enough. And there was just something in her eyes, something that said, "I'm a fighter. I'm not going to go down easily!"

This is a huge, huge risk, Kendappa knows full well as she loads Souma onto her horse. If Taishakuten finds out, her life is forfeit. But damn it all, she can't in good conscience just let this woman be murdered, and hasn't Taishakuten destroyed enough people? Hasn't Tenkai bled enough? Haven't enough orphans been made and enough parents watched their children die?

_I have to do this, _she tells herself as she leads the horse back to where Gandaraja is moored. _I have to save her._

_._

(Ten years later)

Souma is coming to visit, and Kendappa is very excited. Okay, Souma and _Kisshouten _are coming to visit, but Kendappa's most eager to see the beautiful ninja. It's been a whole month, after all, and the days crawl by like years when Souma's not around, truly.

Kendappa impatiently adjusts her belt, staring off into space. Oh, Souma… how she wishes the other woman could hang around her flying castle forever, but it's too risky. Bishamonten has eyes and ears everywhere, and his spies might jeopardize both the harpist and the survivor if they find out who Souma is. Which, of course, makes it all the more delicious that Souma lives in his _wife's _castle, ha! Then again, who would suspect Kisshouten of harboring a woman with a price on her head? And after all, Kisshouten and her husband rarely interact, so it's safe for Souma to live with the captive princess in her own castle, while Bishamonten dwells at cold, lonely Castle North.

Kendappa is infinitely grateful that Kisshouten not only agreed to hide Souma, but _offered _to hide her. Dear Kisshouten, she's such a sweet and maternal person. Too bad her husband's such a dick, Kendappa thinks as she watches little birds alight on the windowsill. Oh well, suffering is the overriding theme in Tenkai, as Souma can attest to.

But unlike Kendappa's weak mother, who moaned about her misfortunes and wept to death, Souma moved on. She still wants revenge, but she focuses her energy on protecting Kisshouten, and Kendappa too. Kendappa hopes like nothing else that Souma will be content with that, and never make good on her vow of killing Taishakuten. That was what she wanted at first, after she woke in Gandaraja and was introduced to Kendappa. But the musician talked her out of it with much effort, cautioning that Taishakuten's defenses are great and his martial power awe-inspiring.

Kendappa prays, with all her heart, that Taishakuten will never track Souma down and exterminate her. If that happens, Kendappa will – in all honesty, she probably won't be able to go on. Because something's happened in this relationship, something that on Kendappa's end goes beyond firm friendship and crosses the line into romantic desire. It was a scary but true realization that she _loves _Souma, more than she ever thought possible, and she wants only what's best for her.

Unfortunately, she has no idea if Souma feels anything of the sort in regard to her. Sometimes Kendappa thinks she does, when Souma brushes her hair or smiles at her, but don't close female friends do the same thing? Heck, Souma brushes Kisshouten's hair too and smiles, and Kendappa knows that Kisshouten does not like women as a man would.

_Oh, why can't everybody like both women and men? _she thinks a bit sourly. _Then it would all come down to personal attraction, not sexuality. Granted I don't like men, but if I'd put up with liking them if everyone else would be equal opportunity too. And then I could woo Souma much easier, to the point she'd propose or something._

She fantasizes about it – Souma will go down on one gallant knee and say, "Kendappa! From the moment I saw you, I knew you were the woman for me. I would never want to be apart from you, ever, and guess what? Taishakuten hit his head and got his personality switched, and he now wants Tenkai to be peaceful again. That means I won't have to be in hiding anymore, and we can live happily ever after!"

And Kendappa will enthusiastically cry in response, "Souma! I love you too! I think of you every day, and I'll happily drop everything else and spend all my time being with you. I'll play the harp and you can braid my hair, and you'll sing songs that I'll accompany you on, and everything will be all right."

Souma will gaily laugh, "We can have Yasha and Karura in the wedding party! And Kisshouten will make sure we both have nice, fancy dresses."

"But Souma," Kendappa will point out with a reluctant sniffle, "two women can't marry, it's never been allowed! I mean, there's no way we could produce an heir."

"I told you Taishakuten's gone nice, right?" Souma will grin with a wink, taking Kendappa's hand from her place on the floor. "He's just issued an edict that love is love, and anybody can marry anybody, male or female! Then he went off to make daisy chains with Tenou, who was crying in happiness that his father's finally paying attention to him."

And then they'll kiss each other, one of those mad, passionate kisses fit for a ballad or an epic, and all the clouds will go away both figuratively and literally. Life will be good, Kendappa will never have to fret about Souma's safety again, and she herself can just go back to being the best musician in Tenkai, and nothing else. Yes, that will make her very, very happy, and Souma too, once she learns of it. Heck, it'll make Kisshouten, Karura, and Yasha happy as well, and probably Tenou and Zouchouten too.

"Lady Kendappa?" a maidservant cuts in with a smile. "Lady Kisshouten and Souma have arrived."

Yay! Kendappa picks her harp up and rushes down to the main audience chamber, her heart pounding in pleased anticipation and a smile on her face. And once there, she sees two of the most beautiful women in Tenkai. Most people would pick Kisshouten as the most gorgeous, but Kendappa thinks Souma wins, hands-down. She's clad in black now like she always is, for mourning, and Kendappa wistfully remembers the pretty white dress Souma was wearing when they met. But at least black looks good on her – then again, she could make rags look good.

"Hello Souma, and Kisshouten," the mistress of Gandaraja greets, ushering them over to a couch, then signaling a servant for refreshments. As the servant hands all three of them tea, Kendappa teasingly asks Souma, "Has Kisshouten been behaving herself around her husband, Souma? She hasn't thrown a plate at him yet, I hope!"

Kisshouten's face turns a bit cold, and Kendappa realizes that flippant humor for such a depressing situation was rude. So she immediately apologizes, "I'm sorry, that was thoughtless. I should have asked if the both of you are well."

"I am well, as is Souma," Kisshouten replies, her expression thawing. "She's such a help to me. And if I ever _do _have to throw any plates at Bishamonten, I can assure you that Souma will be throwing them right there with me," she finishes with a little smirk, making Kendappa laugh.

"We're preparing for the Star Festival next month," Souma tells her rescuer, smiling at her some more and making her heart skip a beat. "It's going to be a good one, I'm sure."

"Another Star Festival, another year soon to pass," Kisshouten sighs in melancholy resignation. "Nothing has changed for the better, and I don't think anything ever will. I predict that things will only get worse," she mutters with a frown, then takes a sip of tea.

"Is that a fortuneteller's prediction, or a plain old Kisshouten prediction?" Kendappa asks seriously, feeling a little chill at her friend's words.

Kisshouten sighs again and replies, "Oh, it's just a plain old Kisshouten prediction, based off all that's come before. I'm no stargazer, I can just tell things like luck and love. And speaking of which," she grins almost evilly, "Lord Yasha is soon to meet a mysterious and compelling stranger, beautiful and irreverent, who will one day steal his heart away. What do you think about _that?_"

Souma and Kendappa light up, and huddle closer to Kisshouten with questions of "What's her name?" and "What's she look like?"

Kisshouten gives them the smug smile of someone who knows more than the rest, and reveals with grand intonation, "Well, I couldn't see the face very well, but I can tell you one thing… this mysterious and compelling stranger is a _man!_" she laughs, shaking a finger as if to scold them for their assumption.

"WHAT?!" Souma gasps incredulously, and Kendappa blinks in shock, then thinks for a moment and crows, "So _that's _why he turns down all those beautiful ladies! A latent homosexuality. Ooh, I _knew _there was something weird about the way he doesn't court any women, or accept their affections. That still doesn't mean I forgive him for my mother's death, though," she mutters under her breath.

Kisshouten says nothing, but Souma looks at Kendappa in concern. But the musician shrugs it off and goes back to, "Well, Yasha's going to fall in love, then. I predict he'll be very clumsy at it, and probably get flustered, and more than likely try to deny his attraction. Maybe it will be one of those tempestuous affairs, where they're yelling one minute and smooching the next. I think that would be funny to watch," she decides, nodding firmly and making a mental note to spy on Yasha and Mysterious Stranger when she gets the chance.

"You know," Kisshouten says abruptly, and to Kendappa's mind changes the subject with, "Tenou told me the other day that he looks forwards to hearing you play the harp more than anything. Isn't that a sweet thing to say?"

"Oh yes, Tenou," Kendappa says breezily, blithe and unaware of what's afoot. "He's such a doll, isn't he? I swear he's not Taishakuten's, there's just no way. Maybe Shashi got 'waylaid' by a handsome soldier on the way to Taishakuten's tent," she grins with waggled eyebrows, and Souma gives voice to a peal of laughter at that.

"He is a doll," Kisshouten agrees in a serious tone, "but he _is _Taishakuten's, because why else would the god-king let him live? We all know what happened to Lord Ashura's child, and if Tenou wasn't Taishakuten's, Shashi would have done the same to him."

"The red hair, though?" Souma skeptically points out. "Explain _that!_"

"A red-headed grandmother on Shashi's side, and a red-headed grandfather on Taishakuten's," Kisshouten shrugs easily. "I met Lord Indra, and Lord Ashura met Shashi's mother and mentioned her to my father, who mentioned her to me. It's certainly very _odd _for a silver-haired man and a brunette woman to have a red-haired child, but Tenou's living proof that it can happen."

The conversation drifts to other genetic surprises, then onto other things. And after a while, Kendappa excuses herself to deal with an unrelated, small household issue. But she is surprised when she turns around after taking care of it, because Souma's standing right behind her and she couldn't tell. She jumps a bit and gasps, and Souma grins like this is really funny, and it actually is: the powerful Kendappa can't detect the not as powerful Souma.

"Did I scare you?" Souma teases.

Kendappa dramatically takes heaving breaths, laying a hand against her breast like a damsel in distress, then says in mock horror, "You gave me _such _a fright, you scary ninja! You mustn't _ever _do such a wicked thing again."

They giggle for a moment, Kendappa slapping Souma on the shoulder, until finally Souma calms down and says quietly, "I wanted to talk to you alone, my lady."

Kendappa stills, humor forgotten, her mind seizing on the "alone" part and spinning all sorts of wondrous scenarios. By all means Souma could very well just have a concern about Kisshouten, but the look in her eyes is intense and almost nervous, probably matching the one in Kendappa's. For a moment they just gaze at each other, feasting their eyes on their counterpart, until finally Souma whispers, "There's something important I must tell you."

"What's that, Souma?" Kendappa whispers back, her heart pounding and her vision seeming to only register the woman before her. Oh god-king, sexual tension is rife in the air, only a buffoon wouldn't be able to pick up on it.

Souma reaches a hand out, like this is the most natural thing in the world, and brushes Kendappa's cheek as she quietly answers, "My lady, you already know how grateful I am to you. You already know how we're such close friends, best friends even. You already know that I would die if it meant you would live… but now, I want you to know that I in fact _love_ you, as more than a friend."

This just might be one of the sweetest confessions Tenkai has ever known, and happy tears spring to Kendappa's eyes as she grins like a fool. But the happiness is going to be on overload, because Souma leans in and presses her lips to hers. A kiss. For a moment Kendappa is frozen by the magnitude of the act, then kisses back, the gentle pressure chaste and hesitant, but very heartfelt. So here it is, the ninja and the harpist, two women with feelings for each other and a history few people have, that of savior and saved.

When they finally pull back, Souma says a bit breathlessly, "And here I was afraid you would get upset and start yelling at me."

"_Never_," the shorter woman firmly dissents, and goes in for a kiss of her own.

This one is longer, a bit busier, and though neither is an expert, it's still quite enjoyable. Kendappa feels like her heart could beat out of her chest in romantic excitement, and this time when they break the kiss, she grabs Souma's face in her hands and breathes, "Should we tell Kisshouten?"

"No," Souma reluctantly decides, shaking her head. "She might be a bit perturbed by it. I know she wouldn't start screaming about how it's wrong, but for now, let's keep this our little secret, all right? Now, much as I'd _like_ you to come back to my bedchamber with me, waiting would be smart, don't you think?"

"My thoughts exactly," Kendappa grins as she plays with one of Souma's claw earrings. "We have all the time in the world to take things slow."

Oh, but if only that were true. If only Kuyou were not even now breaking out of her Water Jail cell with power she stored for so long, intent on fulfilling her promise to Lord Ashura. If only that escape had gone unnoticed, and Yasha wouldn't be tasked the very next day with killing her. If only things had continued on the same course they've been on so far, if only upheaval would not follow, if only Ashura had never been born at all. If only, if only, if only…

.

(Two months later)

The journey of revenge has been long and arduous.

It began with Yasha, told the prophecy by Kuyou. Souma's role began with the death of Gigei, spurring Kisshouten to entreat her to help him. From there it gathered Lord Ryuu, and Lady Karura as well, five stars around the child Ashura, destined to split the Heavens. All were set on bringing down Taishakuten, murderer and usurper, terrible man and the target of no less than three people who vowed to kill him.

And now here they are in Zenmi – but so many things are dreadfully, horribly wrong, so wrong it shakes Souma's soul and would bring her to her knees if it wasn't so important that she stand and fight.

The second wrong thing brought her to tears as it happened: Ryuu is dead! She felt his life force be extinguished, and wanted to cry out in grief. No, not Ryuu! He was her _friend_, a short bundle of energy and aggression who had so much to learn, but a lot to teach too. His sense of humor, his sense of protectiveness toward Ashura, his gruff and no-holds-barred observations on life… all of it, gone!

No one here knew then who killed him, and how could they have suspected the truth? Who would think that his friend Ashura would morph into a monster who hewed him in two with an evil little smile? Not Yasha, not Karura, not Souma, probably not even Bishamonten, Zouchouten, or the terrible third general. How could the other Six Stars have expected that, given the prophecy they heard but misinterpreted? No, they had no way of knowing, and if they had, they probably wouldn't have had any way of preventing it save scattering to the four winds (and even that wouldn't have worked).

The third wrong thing is just as tragic: Karura attacked Taishakuten, and died as well. So sad that she could not avenge Karyoubinga, murdered for no reason whatsoever and fed to Taishakuten's saramahs for a sick jolly. Taishakuten smiled as he killed the Sky Queen and the rest watched in horror, Zouchouten's horror probably the worst of all. He _pleaded _with her to stop and live, and she did not. There was something there when they looked each other in the eye, Souma practically felt it sizzle in the air, but then Taishakuten showed up and that tenuous bond was shattered.

For the longest time after Karura's death Zouchouten just… stood there, clutching a handful of white feathers, four to be precise. He had tears on his face and his shoulders were slumped, and he wasn't the only one who was crying. Souma cried, even Yasha had tears in his eyes, and that spurred the Guardian Warrior of the Northland to attack even harder, until Bishamonten was skewered with his sword and lay dying.

Which brings us to the fourth thing wrong: Kisshouten was downright murdered, by Taishakuten of course. She would have been safe had she stayed away, but at the sight of her dying husband she screamed in grief and rushed to his side, shocking every other person present. None suspected that she'd secretly loved him in return, and none suspected what Taishakuten told her once his second-in-command was gone: Bishamonten's loyalty was all on the condition that Kisshouten would be left alive in the Holy War, and given to him as his wife. And with him dead, Taishakuten sadistically informed her, she was of no further use to the god-king.

And so Kisshouten died next to Bishamonten, a macabre end to a tale steeped in tragedy already. Souma cried again, cried hard at this, and stiffened her resolve that Taishakuten must _die_. He must pay for all his sins! Why do so many terrible things, why _enjoy _doing them? Yes, this man has lived far too long, and hurt far too many people.

But the first thing wrong, the one that affects Souma more than anyone else, is this: Jikokuten is set on destroying the rebels, and _Kendappa _is the General of the Eastland! Karura screamed, "That can't be!" when she announced herself, but no, it is. She is one of the Six Stars, but instead of joining them, she fights them for Taishakuten.

Kendappa is _vicious_, she's hardly Kendappa at all! She told them they were "rebel scum," when she earlier told Souma to finish her job and come back to her. She vowed to "stain the ground with your blood," when she earlier told Souma to make sure none of Koumokuten's army escaped. WHY?! Why tell her all of that, if she meant to kill them all along?

It makes no _sense_, to Souma or Yasha, or even to Zouchouten. Does it even make sense to Kendappa? In her fractured mind, it does. In her twisted psyche, split in two and warring with itself, it's perfectly logical that she should kill the one she loves, for a man she does not love but respects immensely. The man who is the reason Souma suffered so much. Or rather, in _Jikokuten's _mind it makes sense, because Kendappa's pretty much gone, washed away in the tide of insane fury that is her second personality.

There is one more thing wrong, and by all rights this should be the most terrible of all. To Yasha it is, to Jikokuten and Taishakuten it is, yet to Souma it's still secondary to Kendappa's changed alignment. But this horrible thing – no, it is many horrible things, all rolled into one: Ashura is the God of War, he killed Ryuu, the prophecy foretold Tenkai's complete annihilation through him, and he tried to kill his adopted _father _before he disappeared into Ashura Castle.

It's all too much to take, and Souma refuses to believe that her dear little friend is truly gone, swallowed up by the unleashed, unsealed Ashura. It _cannot _be true! Good Ashura must be in there somewhere, because he held sway for so long and surely he can be brought back. He has to be! So Souma vowed to Yasha that _she _would fight Taishakuten, so Yasha can go after Ashura and bring his kind, sad son back.

So here it is. Now she faces the god-king head-on, like she wanted to for so many, many long painful years. Finally, her day of reckoning is here, and she will be damned if this psychopath lives one more hour. She vows to send him off to Hell, and it will be three hundred years too late, but at least he will finally pay the piper.

As Yasha leaps down into the crevasse, Souma stands tall and yells at Taishakuten, "My name is _Souma! _I'm the _last living survivor_ of the Souma tribe that you destroyed! For my father and mother, and the whole tribe, _I will kill you!_"

He says nothing in reply, just smiles that arrogant, tiny smile that was the last thing so many of the dead saw, but she doesn't need him to talk. She gathers her power for a mighty blow, and screams, "_TWIN MOON LEAVES FLY!_"

A magical attack launches itself at Taishakuten in addition to the two physical weapons, and surely this will at least injure him!

If only that were so. He merely sweeps an arm up, and an electrical charge rushes at her, splitting the ground as her weapons fly back to her hands. It hurts like hell, but she is not down or out, she is proud to see that. She bears fresh cuts and is staggered, but she forces herself to stay on her feet because this is a fight for her life. She sways a bit, gathering her power again, but a soft and nearly distraught, "Souma," from Kendappa's lips makes her pause.

But Kendappa says nothing else, just looks at her, so Souma goes again. Another war cry, another leap forwards, but this time it is not Taishakuten who throws her back. This time Jikokuten's sword halts her and sends her back to the ground, and for a moment she can't get up. Why, Kendappa? _WHY?! _

Jikokuten turns to face her master then, the one she chose over the woman she loves, and tells him, more sincere than she has ever been in her entire life, "I will finish her off."

"Why do you look so sad?" he taunts, as she expected him to.

Oh yes, that's Taishakuten. He cares for no one here, not a single living person on this earth except himself. This is funto him, to watch lovers die and in this case kill each other, she can easily tell that by the amused light in his eyes.

"Even when your father was killed before your very eyes, you didn't show any feelings," he goes on, and his face seems to be saying, "You're just like me, Jikokuten. You're a monster like I am, violent and incapable of actually valuing anyone who is less than ourselves."

And suddenly Kendappa breaks through, with the bigger eyes and the grief, and tells him again more honestly than ever before, "Souma is the only person I ever loved."

_Ever. __Ever__._

With that she turns away, and hears, at the edge of her hearing, him whispering to himself, "Ever loved?" in a completely confounded tone, like this is a foreign idea to him. It should not be, and had he been present at the times when Souma smiled at Kendappa, or Kendappa played the harp for her, or at that first most wonderful kiss, he would not be so surprised. But those times are over, and Jikokuten raises her arm, ready to kill, for a _stupid _vow and an _asinine _sense of what's more important.

The swing of her sword sends a shockwave ripping through the hall, shattering marble and hitting Souma full-on. But she springs forward nonetheless, engaging the woman she loves in a battle she can't bring herself to be fully a part of. _Souma _has an actual conscience, _Souma _is noble instead of insane, and _Souma _will pay for that common decency with her life. She knows it, but she still can't make herself try to kill Jikokuten, just tries to get around her to Taishakuten. But again she falls back, bloodied even further, and cannot make herself get up.

"My… lady…"

And then… something on her cheek that tells her that all of Kendappa is not lost in Jikokuten. She's crying, looking down at Souma like she can't bear to look away.

"Taishakuten will kill you if you don't stop," the shorter woman tells her, bent fully over her on the ground. Then she wipes her tears and goes on, "So… at least… let me be the one to see you off this plane."

She touches Souma's cheek, and Souma closes her eyes because that is no consolation. It would be betterif she was killed by Taishakuten, not the woman she would have happily laid down her life for, but not like this. No, this is tragic, uncomforting though Jikokuten means it to be a comfort. Souma doesn't understand, and truly, no one besides the General of the Eastland understands. And even she is conflicted, Kendappa struggling with all her might to regain control, stop this monstrous depravity.

But Jikokuten wins. With a single sharp movement she impales Souma through the chest, right between the breasts she so wanted to touch and kiss. Souma does not cry out, her mouth and eyes wide open in agony, but no sound comes from her lips. It will do no good.

"My… lady…" she manages, wanting to say, "I love you still. You killed me, and I still love you." But all she can do is reach a hand up to the earring she gave Kendappa as a promise to kill Taishakuten and return to her, a promise Jikokuten thwarted by her own hand.

"I'm so sorry," Jikokuten sniffles, holding Souma's hand close to her face, still crying and having made up her mind how to end this. "I can never change my decision. I just can't."

Again, why? Vicious strength over kind love is a choice only the insane or the sociopath would make, and Kendappa, for all her foolish choices, _is _capable of kind actions as well. For the vast majority of her life she was good, but these past two days have stained her soul just as dark as all the other Four Gods, and with her destruction of Souma, more. The other three at least did not kill one they loved, they at least killed enemies and in their own ways attempted to protect precious people: Kisshouten, Karura, Tamara. Not that Bishamonten, Zouchouten, or Koumokuten saw a happy ending either.

Jikokuten's voice shakes as she goes on, "Souma… you're strong. But still, you can never defeat Taishakuten. I… can't break my vow," she says, now sobbing, "But!"

Souma coughs up blood, and feels the other woman taking one of her weapons out of her hand. The dark fighter opens her eyes just in time to see a horrifying sight, that of Jikokuten placing the sickle at her neck, slicing into the delicate skin. Souma stares in awe as Kendappa finally throws her evil entity off – far too late – and speaks her last words: "It means nothing to live in Tenkai without you."

She _does _love her. For an hour Souma thought she didn't, thought she no longer existed at all, but with this penitent action her faith is restored. As Kendappa slices her jugular and Zouchouten bellows her name, Souma is struck through with sudden terror. No, Kendappa can't die! She has to live, she has to!

Suddenly, the ninja knows what she must do, because she cannot watch Kendappa expire, it's too much. As she falls forward Souma can't believe this is happening, and she screams again, "My lady!"

With her death drawing ever closer, using the last reserves of her strength, Souma intends to make Kendappa immortal. If the shorter woman lives, _she _can kill Taishakuten, and she will move on and be happy in time. All Souma has to do is give her her blood, and then she can die with dignity and peace. There's certainly enough of her blood around, so she gets to her knees and cradles Kendappa, making sure some drips on her lips.

"H-Here," she chokes out as her vision dims. "My blood… please take… my blood…"

Kendappa will not lick her lips, and Souma desperately entreats her, "Once in a lifetime, we Souma can make one person immortal. Please… be the one…"

No response, so now she pulls the very sword that killed her from her body, panting and pleading one final, "My… lady…" as the crimson liquid gushesdown, spattering against Kendappa's mouth. Souma wants to force her mouth open, make her swallow it, but she can barely hold herself upright. Yet she _must _do this, because this is all she has left in the whole wide world, saving Kendappa.

And then she is ripped away, gasping in pain, in horrified anger that she _cannot_ save Kendappa. She turns her head with a furious, "What're you –?" and a colossal effort of will to see the smirking Taishakuten, as in the background Zouchouten stares in appalled surprise. The god-king pulls her back!

"Lady Kendappa!" she screams in her horror, sickened that even this is denied her.

What right does Taishakuten have to stop this precious dying gift?! Souma wants Kendappa to live, her lady, the one who saved her life and made her love, despite what she has done to her for the god-king. If Kendappa lives on, Souma has saved at least one important person, out of so many she could not save.

But she cannot reach her, he's holding her back, and her life is fading rapidly. NO! No, she has to make Kendappa immortal! But she _can't_, she can't make her body break away from him, it's too late. Her soul is leaving this plane no matter how she fights to keep it here, and she is more dead than alive now.

And the so-tortured Souma's dying words are, "You bastard… Taisha…ku…ten…"

Because he has taken _everything _from her.

.

.

(AN: I must admit that I have a very hard time with Jikokuten. Contradictions _everywhere_. Leaving aside helping Yasha, Souma, and Kisshouten, and telling Souma to come back to her [no indication is given at all until Volume 5 that she believes she can't do it], if Kendappa's a bloodthirsty loyal minion of Taishakuten, why doesn't she tattle on Zouchouten for hiding the fact that Karura's alive?

Not to mention her reason for rabidly serving the sadist she mentally calls a monster in Volume Five is incredibly moronic. And let's make a little kid one of the most powerful military commanders in the land, even though the rest of them had to earn it, it makes total sense! Plus, never mind that we never see her throw energy balls around and take a regicide attack to the chest, summon demons, or slaughter warrior tribes… she's the strongest out of the Four Gods. _Suuure. _And my goodness, of _course_ she can fight Zouchouten and be better than him, because she's so special she doesn't need to actually _practice _with that sword like everybody else, she just hides it in her harp for years on end.

I'm sorry, I don't actually buy any of that BS, and I know I'm not alone.

By the way, if Kendie's immortal, that means Ashura doesn't fully unseal his power, which was Taishakuten's supposed motivation for all the people he slaughtered [riiiight, he just smiles when he causes pain and kills people who had nothing to do with the promise because he's a noble antihero]. Therefore, he would have forced her to drink the blood, not pulled Souma away. He's said himself that he doesn't care about anything but his promise and Lord Ashura, so why did he suddenly care what Kendappa wanted or what happened to Karura's soul, after he drove her to such rage for no reason but cruel giggles?

"Akuti" means "princess," and "Mata" means "mother" in Sanskrit.)


	6. Hearts and Strings

**Chapter Five: Hearts and Strings**

(Nerima-ku, Tokyo, in late May 2011)

It's a hip, happenin' night on the town. Koto Kendappa, voice actress for the can't-miss anime adaptation of the hit manga "Samurai Schoolgirl Monster Harem," has just wrapped up the recording for the all-important pilot episodes. She _nailed _the peppy yet mercurial Yokono Yoko-chan, it just might be her best work ever. So the cast went out to a bar, to celebrate and pledge their hopes that the fans will gobble up the anime and all its merchandise.

It's got every anime staple in the book: cute seventeen-year-olds who look twelve, panty shots, katanas, a schoolgirl with a double personality, shape-shifting sexy male demons, angsty backstories, men who are prettier than the women, a hero pursued by multiple babes who fight each other over him, and of course, legions of collectible animal sidekicks. And a theme song that gets stuck in your head, Kendappa's sung part of it. Not to mention skimpy teen girl outfits that no sane parent would let their daughter leave the house in.

The art is, of course, moe, because the average 2010s anime fan finds big blank eyes, round faces, and basically the same facial features over and over to be sexier than more realistic eyes, lipstick, longer faces, and distinct facial features. Of course the men have nice long-lashed eyes, longer faces, and defined lips, but the girls are all cutesy. Oh, for the anime of the '90s and early 2000s, Kendappa often thinks, because she honestly preferred a more mature style.

Oh well, she's not the character designer, she's just a seiyuu. She's not the lead, but she _is _voicing one of the supporting characters and a couple background characters as well. This is more than fine with her, because more characters mean a higher paycheck. She well remembers starting out as an unknown theater actress, and living hand-to-mouth like so many, many budding entertainers do. Nowadays she's doing quite well, and she's accumulating lots of loyal fans. Yay, they'll all rush to buy her music album when she gets around to recording it!

That's one thing that's different in Japanese voice acting than Western voice acting: it's imperative that you know how to sing, because Japanese animation studios like to put out CDs for the games and anime they've produced. Oh sure, back in Disney's heyday the voice actors occasionally sang the songs in the movies, but now with CG most soundtracks consist of songs appropriated from other sources. Just one more way America's animation industry is sinking lower and lower from its former stunning heights, which used to dwarf anime in animation technique and often beauty.

That doesn't concern Kendappa. Right now, what concerns her is whether or not she should order sake like everybody else. Or maybe just a margarita or something, since she honestly doesn't like sake that much. So why drink it just to fit in? She decides that's just stupid, and places a firm order for a raspberry margarita with sugar on the rim.

"I sure hope they keep the plot consistent with the manga for the second season," one of her coworkers is saying with a martyred sigh, not sounding very convinced. "I mean, we've all worked on productions where they completely screwed it up, and then you get the fans writing you letters and complaining, like it's your fault."

"Well, they know who we are," Kendappa points out with a grin. "They often don't know who the writers are! What I hate is when the manga artist gets pissed that the voice actors or writers 'mangled' their baby, even though they sold the rights."

They tell horror stories about angry mangaka they've known, and Kendappa makes the official decision that this is a good crew. Well, all right, she knew they were easy to work with so far, but they seem to be getting along for the most part. She likes that, because every performer has had to work with others whom they wanted to punch. But not here, hopefully, and she congratulates herself that right now, her life is satisfactory. Not great or phenomenal, but certainly nice, with no major new problems or expected major stress.

But sometimes she feels like… she feels like she's missing something. Well, okay, she never dates because she has better things to focus on, but she can't shake the idea that a fundamental part of her life is absent. A hobby? No, she has hobbies. A friend? Possibly, because she has many casual friends but no close friends. Or maybe it _is _a lover, but she's never yet found a man who really moves her.

…Maybe that's it. Deep, deep in her soul, she knows why that is. She knows that the thought of straight sex is incredibly uncomfortable, and the thought of two women is quite arousing. But she can't say that! Nerima-ku in particular is pretty accepting as a whole of same-sex relationships, but Kendappa's parents were very conservative and she, honestly, does not fit the butch lesbian mold that she sees all around her. She's a lipstick lesbian, not one who tries to look like a man. Except, well, she doesn't like dresses or skirts, and feels downright uncomfortable in them.

And she refuses to _admit _that she only likes women, or likes women at all. Friends of hers give her knowing looks, but she loudly proclaims that she's straight and just hasn't found the right man yet. Some of them believe her, because there _are _straight women like that and even straight women who just don't want a man at all, but others are clearly thinking that she's just putting up a front. Well, she's never going to tell them that they're correct, and she's never going to tell herself that either, surely.

_I'm not a lesbian, _she tells herself firmly, as she steadfastly avoids looking at the bartender's cleavage, right in front of her at eye level. _I'm not! My mother would turn over in her grave if her daughter was a dyke, and my father would probably go berserk and have to be put into solitary for a week. Not that I care what happens to him._

Her parents, it may be a surprise, do not bear the names Jikokuten and Aoi (the prior Lady Kendappa's birth name) because they're _not _Jikokuten and Aoi. Those two are off in the Land of the Dead, Aoi still moping over Yasha and Jikokuten even now playing a rousing game of chess with Ryuu's mother. Nope, these Tokyo parents are different, and why not? Jikokuten and his wife never lost the one they loved, so they had no reason for their souls to be restless.

The Tokyo parents are Koto Renji and Koto Imari, a couple whose marriage ended in horrific, violent tragedy. Renji had a history of domestic abuse, Imari had had enough and tried to leave him, and so he killed her with Kendappa upstairs. All she heard were screams and a shot, then silence, then another scream from Renji's throat as he realized that whoops, when you shoot somebody in the chest from close quarters in a fit of possessive rage, she won't be alive for you to barbarically cling to anymore. After a few short minutes of hiding terrified under her covers, Kendappa heard sirens, and that was that.

Renji deservedly went off to prison for life, Kendappa went to live with her grieving maternal grandmother, and Imari went into the ground. Needless to say this left scars on the then-nine-year-old, but by now and thanks to massive therapy, Kendappa's doing as well as anyone can be expected to after something like that. But she still has night terrors, hates her father like nothing else in the world, and wants each and every domestic violence perpetrator worldwide to get his testicles and head chopped off.

Oh well, at least she's not living a double life, with two sides of her soul cautiously circling each other… yet, at any rate.

.

It's another splendid morning, and Tsuki Souma is up bright and early, whistling a catchy song and making herself some breakfast. She always has nice big breakfasts, because she works it all off. She's technically one of the many small herbalists of Tokyo, but she's a couple other, much more impressive things as well.

She smiles at the flowers in the windowbox, and thinks to herself, _Not only are you pretty, you're good for rheumatoid arthritis._

Souma likes plants, not just because they can be eaten or look nice. She uses her remedies herself and has gained almost a cult following for her healing skills. Japan likes its folk medicine, and Souma is a prime example of how a skilled herbalist can really make it.

Not that she's wealthy, at all. But she has enough to rent a decent apartment, and since she's in Tokyo she doesn't really need a car. Public transportation is the way to go, and Souma's not worried in the least about being attacked. Her family has a history of karate and she's a fifth-degree black belt, so even if the attacker comes at her with a gun, she'll most likely be able to grab it from his hand and blow his head off. And she will have no qualms whatsoever about doing so; she won't feel sorry in the least when it's over, because self-defense is a basic right.

Ah, now's not the time for stressful thoughts like that. Now's the time to sit down and eat, and read the comics, and drink her tea, and after that it's time for meditation. After _that_, it's off to her little stall in the market, laden with all sorts of marvelous little jars and packets.

But Souma, like Kendappa, is rather lonely. Like Kendappa, she has many friends, but no significant other anymore. Her last relationship just sort of petered out and it was never serious anyway, though she burns for someone to truly love.

_I would like a life partner, _she thinks almost sadly, then shakes it off with, _When the time is right, she'll come. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next year, maybe ten years from now, but when the gods decide to send her my way, I won't waste any time in wooing her. Of course I'd like to befriend her first, but we might just be so attracted that the friendship stage is a secondary consideration._

Oh yes, Souma is a lesbian. Unlike Kendappa, she knew and accepted it at a very early age, third grade in fact. This acceptance was helped along by her very tolerant parents, who were surprised but completely supportive. A loving, non-judgmental family makes a huge difference in a gay person's happiness, and Souma feels very sorry for those with a same-sex attraction who have judgmental, ignorant families. Hers was all right as she tacked up pictures of female idol singers over her bed as a teenager, and brought a couple casual girlfriends home to meet them.

Yes, she has wonderful parents. And like Kendappa, they are not her Tenkai parents. Lord Souma and Mata are actually watching her right now, hoping with all their hearts that their daughter will find the one she loves again. They were of course horrified by what Kendappa did, but the dead can sense the living's feelings, and they understand. They don't condone, but they understand.

Souma cleans up from breakfast, brushes her teeth, washes her face, changes into day clothes, meditates, gets up, packs her giant shoulder bag, locks her door, and off she goes down the hallway, headed for the street. It's nice and warm today, and there's a spring in her step as she walks to the subway. Days like this always make her so glad to be alive.

.

As Souma steps onto the first subway train, Kendappa pops into a coffeeshop. Starbucks rules the world, so it's easy to find some coffee she doesn't have to make herself. Needless to say the coffeeshop isn't as busy as a tea house, but still, you get more caffeine from coffee so the business crowd is out in full force. As she waits in line, she decides that she'll go with something with caramel today, because caramel is all sorts of awesome.

Once she reaches the counter, she orders with no hesitation, "A double iced caramel mocha with whipped cream, please."

"Can do," the cashier cheerfully replies, calling her order back to the barista.

But the barista seems to be having a hard time, dropping one cup and having to get another one, mixing up the spigots and then slapping a hand to his forehead in embarrassed realization, and having to start all over again. He's cute, both in an "Aw, poor kid" way and a "Whoa, handsome young man!" way, not that Kendappa finds him attractive in the least. But "cute" is a good adjective, given his soft brown eyes and worried expression, absentmindedly flicking a shoulder-length strand of loose red hair over his shoulder as he chews his lower lip.

"Ouji," his probable boss snaps from the side, "you've had _how _many weeks to get this right?"

"Two," the cute barista mutters sheepishly, topping off Kendappa's espresso with whipped cream. "But at least I didn't spill it this time."

His boss shakes her head in disgust and goes back to what she was doing, and he hands Kendappa her drink with a cheerful, "Here you go, ma'am. Sorry about the wait."

"Not a problem," she assures him with a smile, taking her drink and getting a straw. "It's tough to learn the ropes of a new job. I got fired from no less than three because I didn't learn them fast enough! But don't worry, you'll get the hang of it," she says encouragingly, trying to buck him up.

"Ouji!" the boss barks, making him jump like a yelled-at dog. "It's your scheduled break time, so take it, idiot."

Kendappa can't stop a slight smile from twitching at the corners of her mouth. This poor kid, he's obviously scared of his boss. And he's also obviously somewhat of a pushover, since Kendappa would've asserted herself and told the boss in no uncertain terms that the "idiot" insult was uncalled for. In fact, she considers standing up for him herself, but then decides that this is something he needs to do on his own.

"Come sit by me for your break," she offers in a friendly tone, unaware of what she's setting in motion. "It's the weekend so I'm in no hurry, and you look like you could use somebody nice to talk to."

The barista's face now bears a stunned expression, but then he grins and replies, "That's kind of you. Hold on, just let me make myself a latte and I'll be right there."

And soon he is right there, joining her at a table for two and seating himself with an apologetic, "I really am learning. It's just, there's so much to remember with all the drinks and the ingredients. I'm actually a lot better than I used to be, I swear."

"Aw, you're fine," she good-naturedly reassures him, toasting him with her mocha. "I'm Kendappa, nice to meet you. So what's your name? Somehow I don't think you want me to call you 'Ouji' like your bitchy boss," she smirks, uncaring if the boss hears. You can't yell at a customer!

"My name is Tenou," he replies, pleasant and simply _exuding _boy-next-door charm. He gives her a little bow in his seat and goes on, "I'm a freshman at Kaminari University, and this is actually my second job. I also do secretary work in the university's financial aid department, but you probably know how it is. Tuition is insanely expensive, and one low-paying job isn't nearly enough."

"Boy, do I," Kendappa mutters grimly. "For me, my career after college didn't pick up for a couple years, and I worked two extra jobs while I did the acting. I used to be a straight theater actress who wanted to break into movies, but then I tried out for a voice-acting gig for some extra cash and that's what I'm doing today."

"You're a voice actress? Wow. I've never met one of those before – well, that I know of anyway," he amends, then asks like this is absolutely fascinating, "What have you worked on?"

Kendappa tells him her entire work history, but he hasn't seen or played any of those. Still, he seems keen to learn more about her job, and also seems fascinated by the daily workings of a recording studio. Kendappa demonstrates a couple voices, and somehow gets the sense that he'll be ferreting those shows out online, listening to clips and thinking to himself, _I know her! Boy, she can really make her voice sound different._

It's flattering, and maybe she's showing off a little, because she's proud of her abilities.

"So what are you studying?" she asks him then. "Do you have a major, or are you still undecided?"

"I'm going to be a teacher," Tenou tells her eagerly. "I love children, and I love learning, so helping kids learn is the perfect combination. I'm thinking I'll go for third or second grade, but I could also handle younger ones, and up to eighth grade. Just not high school, I might have a hard time getting teenagers to obey me when I'm twenty-three," he says with a grin, and she laughs in response.

"Yeah, I think any young high school teacher has a problem with that," she has to agree, her eyes dancing. "Plus you'd probably get all the girls crushing on you, even trying to date you."

He shakes his head with emphatic movements, and seriously tells her, "I would _never _do something that unethical. That would be downright wrong."

"We need more men like you," she tells him equally seriously. "A lot of them don't have half your moral fiber."

Tenou looks flattered, and bears a slight flush on his cheeks. For a moment he just stares at her, and she doesn't notice that the flush seems to deepen. Poor Kendappa, now as then she misses matters of the heart, and now as then, heartache is going to come from that. His? Undoubtedly. Hers? Most likely, indeed almost certainly in an indirect way.

But he lets it go, and they chatter on for ten more minutes, until he glances at the clock and reluctantly says, "I have to go back to work now. But listen, I really… I mean, that was so nice of you – er… what I'm trying to say –"

"Want my number, just to talk sometime?" she offers as she smiles some more, because this guy seems almost familiar, somehow.

It's like she trusts him, and honestly, he's given her no reason not to. She has the overwhelming sense that he's just what he seems: a harried student working two jobs and still struggling to get the hang of this one, a sweet young man who loves kids and has a strong conscience, and a friendly soul who could use a friend or three. Maybe he already has lots of them, but one more can't hurt, right? Right, you can't have too many friends.

She seems to have made his day, because he lights up like a sunrise and hastens to agree, "Sure! Sure, you can have mine too."

With that he pulls out his phone, and they enter in each other's numbers. Cool, new friend alert! And she'll see him here too.

"Bye Kendappa!" he practically sings as she leaves, waving and grinning. She waves and grins back, then is out the door with a thought of, _Nice guy. A pushover, but that often comes with being a nice guy._

Now, on to some clothing stores, because she needs to update her wardrobe. And once she's gotten her new clothes, she decides to swing by the farmer's market because she loves fresh vegetables. She hasn't been to the nearest one since she only moved here during the winter, and of course no farmers have vegetable stalls in winter. But it's late enough for some crops to be harvested, and she's in the mood to patronize local growers and get some healthy food at the same time.

She heads to the light rail stop, because the closest market is right on the line. The city is bustling: people calling to each other and chattering, the scent of food weaving in around them, everybody baring pale skin after winter, and some people obviously on a mission while others are clearly going wherever their feet happen to take them. She halts at her terminal, trying not to hear what the lady next to her is saying into her phone:

"You didn't call home until it was one in the morning, Koumokuten! Do you seriously expect me to believe you were jet lagged?! You were out cheating on me!"

Then a faint voice that sounds sort of familiar, except the harried tone is new: "Honey, I'm in Johannesburg. One in the morning is six in the evening there, and I _was _jet lagged! Parvati, you gotta quit being so paranoid, okay? _Tamara _believes me when I tell the truth."

And so on and so forth. Kendappa rolls her eyes, offhandedly wondering which half of this dysfunctional pair is right. As it turns out, Koumokuten is… but that isn't the whole story. Kendappa tries not to hear Parvati railing at her henpecked hubby for little things, and steps farther away, closer to the edge. Sheesh, why can't people save private conversations for when they're in private, and not subject everyone within hearing distance to them?

Suddenly, frantic, angry shouts come from behind her in multiple voices:

"STOP THIEF!"

"He took my purse!"

"Somebody stop that guy!"

Kendappa turns just in time to see a young man clutching a purse dashing towards her, with three other people in hot pursuit. Before she can consciously think on it, she reaches out a hand to try to snag the thief –

And is pushed violently aside in his panic, right over the edge of the platform because there is no railing on this part. She shrieks in surprise and fear, flailing in the air and unable to turn herself to catch her body on her hands and knees. No, she falls backwards, hitting the concrete with a crack of her skull as horrified gasps and shouts come from all around. She's stunned, three inches from the electric rail, with a train barreling down the line towards her! Even though it's already slowing down in preparation to stop, it won't be enough, she's going to _die_, she's actually going to –

Strong, slender hands seize and lift her, as people shout encouragement and other hands reach out as well. Kendappa, dazed and with her vision blurry, nevertheless realizes that she's being carried by a black-clad woman, bounding up back onto the platform as others pull her to get her out of danger faster. And they're up and safe, as the train passes right where she was but a second ago. She did it!

Excited and relieved cheers come from all present but the two of them, and Kendappa is still sort of unclear what actually happened. But her savior gently lays her on the ground and asks in a worried low soprano, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I hope so. Thanks to _you_," Kendappa says thankfully, focusing her gaze on the other woman.

She's beautiful, with emerald eyes, shoulder-length black hair, and a tight black t-shirt that shows off a wonderful figure. Her skin is a rich brown, far too dark to just be a tan, and she's looking at Kendappa with obvious great concern. Somehow she seems very familiar, but the voice actress can't for the life of her place this woman.

"Has anyone called an ambulance?" the heroine of the day calls, but Kendappa immediately protests, "I don't need an ambulance! I'm okay, just a little dizzy."

"It's very possible that you have a concussion," the taller woman seriously tells her. "You should get checked out just in case, all right? If you'd like, I can come with you to the hospital, it's actually on this line."

"You should do that!"

"Yeah, go with Ninja Lady!"

"Please dear, go get checked out."

Such are the responses of the bystanders, making it easy for Kendappa to decide, "Okay. Thanks, uh, Ninja Lady."

Ninja Lady flashes her a proud grin as she pulls Kendappa back up, introducing herself with, "You can call me Ms. Tsuki, or Souma if you'd like. What's your name?" she asks as they board the lightrail, with everybody watching in interest and relief.

After assuring the conductor that she's fine and both of them getting the pleasant surprise that he won't make them pay, Kendappa is able to turn back to Souma and answer, "It's so nice to meet you Souma, and thank you again from the bottom of my heart. My name's Koto Kendappa."

"Oh my gosh, _the_ Koto Kendappa?!" Souma gasps, in the characteristic tones of a fan meeting a celebrity they adore. "I _loved _your work on Empress Kunai in 'Soft Floats the Feather.' Your voice was just _perfect_, so I went and researched what else you've worked on, and loved most of those too."

She wants to add (but doesn't), "I felt like I recognized your voice, and somehow your name seemed to fit. I guess I'm actually a fangirl, since I joined the fan club and saved a number of your press shots. You're my favorite voice actress."

Kendappa lights up, because she loves meeting fans, and it's particularly flattering to hear this one praise her. Why? She doesn't know why, but she does know that it's true. There's something about this woman, something that makes Kendappa's heart beat a little faster, makes her pay rapt attention to the movement of Souma's mouth and the upward tilt of the lovely eyes when she smiles.

"I'm glad you like my work," Kendappa says with a grin as she sits down and Souma sits next to her. "I can autograph something for you, if you'd like."

Souma grins back and replies, "That would be the most awesome thing ever! Um, can I mention on my blog that I saved your life?"

Kendappa laughs a little, then happily tells her, "Well of course you can! It's the truth. You can even get a picture of us on your phone. Anyway… what do _you _do, Souma?"

"Nothing as glamorous as voice acting, but I love it. I'm an herbalist, and I teach karate. I'm a fifth-degree black belt, you see," Souma reveals with justified pride, sitting a little straighter.

Kendappa is very impressed, and breathes, "Wow… _fifth_-degree? Why aren't you in movies, making money as an action star?"

Souma laughs at this idea, then informs her, "Movie karate is much different than actual karate. In actual karate, you don't do a series of fancy moves when a simple move would have done the job. And if more than one person is attacking you, they don't do it one at a time, either. Plus, you know, I wouldn't want to work in the entertainment industry because it doesn't suit my laid-back personality."

Kendappa nods seriously and has to agree, "Yes, it is pretty high-pressure. And it can take a lot out of you, so if you don't get that high from performing, it's hell. I myself love it, but that's just me."

"And your public is _thrilled_ that you love it," Souma says in a formal voice like an announcer, making Kendappa laugh some more.

The rest of the ride to the hospital is filled with talk like that, but Kendappa soon feels very, very nauseated. Souma watches in concern, and gently helps her off the bus when they get to the hospital. Nausea, oh dear, that's another sign of a concussion. Well, it's to the emergency room they go, but it's almost full already, the black-clad woman realizes with despair. But okay, she'll wait with Kendappa anyway.

After checking in, Souma leads her idol to two empty chairs that are thankfully next to each other, sits her down, and soothes, "If you start to think you're going to throw up, tell me and I'll try to get a basin or something."

"Thanks Souma. Right now, I just want to try to take my mind off it," Kendappa faintly decides. "Tell me more about yourself."

And so they get to know each other much better, for the three hours it takes for them to be seen. Souma learns Kendappa's favorite foods, and what her favorite projects were to work on, and just how she views her life and the world in general. Kendappa learns where Souma went to school, what other hobbies she has, and that she wishes she could have a cat but her apartment doesn't allow pets.

"I wish I could have a cat too, but I'm so busy it wouldn't be fair to the poor animal," Kendappa mournfully admits. "I suppose I could get a fish if I really wanted a pet, but fish are so boring in comparison to cats."

"Well, yes, but I love my beta fish," Souma tells her, her eyes sparkling. "His name is Yugi, from that 'Yu-Gi-Oh!' character with the crazy three-color hair. He's dark purple with lighter purple on the ends of his fins, which are kind of spiky, so I thought Yugi was an appropriate name. I only know about the character because I used to babysit a kid who was really into 'Yu-Gi-Oh!', but still."

Kendappa laughs at the vision of a Yugi fish, and replies, "That's a great name for a beta. And that's one way to recognize shounen characters: they have wacky hair, and the women are all wearing slutty clothes. I'm not sure which is worse, that or shoujo where everybody's eyes are massive and the men look like women. And the flowers are omnipresent."

"Ha, yes. Like 'Revolutionary Girl Utena,' the poster child for rose petals and roses everywhere. Or the one it was inspired by, 'Rose of Versailles,' " Souma says seriously, obviously somebody who knows her manga and anime. "I mean, I like roses, but mostly for the health benefits from the rosehips. They're anti-inflammatory, for example."

"How did you get interested in herbs?" Kendappa asks with great curiosity.

Souma gives her another stunning white smile and explains, "My family has always been interested in the healing properties of plants. On my dad's side, a lot of my ancestors were folk doctors. Their knowledge has been passed down through the generations, and in fact, I know how to set bones and such too. And CPR, and all those other first aid things. I just think it's good to know how to take care of someone who's been injured, because you never know when that ability will make the difference between life and death."

Just then the call comes for "Koto Kendappa?" and the two of them get up to follow a nurse to an ER room. But guess what? They have to wait in that one too. Sheesh, emergencies should be taken care of as soon as possible, not hours later!

"We should be friends," Kendappa tells Souma with a firm nod, as the nurse leaves. "You just really, really seem to have clicked with me, if it's not too forward of me to say so."

"Then we _will _be friends," Souma assures her with another big smile, reaching out to clasp Kendappa's shoulder. "You and I do seem to have really hit it off. So –" she whips out her phone, "– I'll give you my number and you can give me yours, okay?"

That's just what they do, and each is ridiculously excited. Kendappa is stubbornly trying to think that it's just platonic friend excitement, but Souma is more true to herself and knows that on her end, it's potential girlfriend excitement. But she's not going to move fast, because what if she scares Kendappa off? Besides, she can already tell that this friendship is going to be awesome, and many women fall in love with a friend, whether that friend is male or female. Souma will wait, but she's pretty sure that at some point she'll be asking Kendappa out.

Finally a doctor comes in, examines Kendappa, and pronounces the verdict: a moderate concussion. But after learning what occurred, he says seriously, "A concussion is a small price to pay for what could have happened to you. Thank the gods your friend was there to save you."

"She's my savior-pal," is Kendappa's cheerful response, and she honestly means it. "So… should I go home and rest?"

"Yes, definitely. Avoid exercise for about a week, and if you experience continued dizziness and nausea, see a doctor again. You can take aspirin-free medications if you'd like."

And that's that. Souma guides Kendappa back out, and hopefully asks her as they step onto the street, "Would you like me to take you home? Just in case something happens? You still might suddenly lose consciousness, you know, and it might not be while you're sitting on the subway or lightrail."

Kendappa, flattered by all this attention, has no trouble at all replying, "If you're offering to accompany me home, I won't say 'no.' It's just, I mean, do you have to be somewhere?"

"No, I was just going to the farmers' market," Souma reveals with a shrug, and Kendappa chuckles, "So was I! Funny. It's almost like you and I were meant to meet, huh?"

Yes. Yes, they were. One way or another, Souma and Kendappa were going to bump into each other today, but the Bhagavaana feel smug that Souma ended up saving her lady. Souma is courageous and strong, and it was best that Kendappa got the full effect of that. The ninja saved the harpist in Tenkai as well; there were more spies than the one Kendappa killed when Yasha was in Gandaraja, and one of them found out who Souma was. That spy, posing as a maid, meant to bring this information back to Bishamonten and Kendappa would have been executed as well, but Souma tracked and exterminated her before she could do so.

But the two reincarnated ladies have no inkling of this, yet. For now, all they know is that they seem comfortable with the woman they've just met, and as Kendappa unlocks her apartment door, she regrets that she needs to rest and doesn't have the energy to entertain Souma. But she will once she recovers! They have each other's numbers, so it should be just fine.

"I've got to lie down," Kendappa says apologetically, then summons the brightest smile she can muster and goes on, "Thanks again, but I can get myself to bed. I'll be okay."

Souma acquiesces, but with an admonition to take it easy and to call her if anything gets worse. She leaves with great reluctance, and for the rest of the day, she is distracted. Kendappa keeps popping up in her thoughts, and by the time Souma gets home, she's all hot and bothered.

Well, simple enough to fix that, she thinks as she climbs into bed. Kendappa doesn't have to know that Souma's about to touch herself to thoughts of her new friend.

.

Two weeks later, Souma and Kendappa have spent an awful lot of time together, pretty much whenever they could. They laugh and tease and swap earbuds and stories, and Kendappa's done something she usually doesn't do, which is tell a new acquaintance all about her mother's death. Souma listened with a compassionate look on her face, then when Kendappa was finished hugged her hard. She does things like that, and Kendappa wholeheartedly responds to them, like they've known each other for years. In just two weeks, they've become fast friends, probably even best friends.

Kendappa's also hung out with Tenou a couple times – at the coffeeshop, and a lunch where they both paid for their own meal. He's quite kind and she likes him an awful lot, so when they meet up at the coffeeshop one Friday evening, she's unaware what he's going to spring on her. How could she? Her mind doesn't work along the lines of a male/female romance, even though she'd like it to.

He's just coming from one direction as she's coming from another, and he greets her with a wave and a sunny, "Hi Kendappa! Isn't it a beautiful day?"

"Sure is," she agrees as he rushes to hold the door for her. "I love this time of year."

They get in line (it's a long one), and as they do he says with great seriousness, "Listen, Kendappa … I have something important to ask you. Something _really _important."

"Ask away."

He takes a deep, deep breath, and asks her solemnly, "Will you please go out with me? I find you fascinating," he rushes on, "and I feel like I've known you for years, and also like I'd never be happy with anybody besides you."

Kendappa the closet lesbian has only a few seconds to think on this, and her immediate thought is, _He's probably too shy to initiate any sort of sex, so I'm safe from that. And if I date him, people will stop thinking I'm gay!_

A cover boyfriend, then. Is that a reprehensible thing to do to him? Yes it is, but she shies away from thinking like that, telling herself that surely this will be just fine. Perhaps he'll even get tired of her down the road, or she'll fall for him, or they'll just decide that they're not compatible and go back to being platonic pals. All of those are reasonable outcomes, and she stubbornly tells herself that his "I'd never be happy with anybody besides you" statement is just immaturity.

So she sends him a smile, bright like the sun, and agrees, "Sure, I'll go out with you. You're so sweet."

Now he looks more relieved than anyone else she's seen in her life, and for a moment he considers what to do next. Does he kiss her? Nah, that's too forward. Does he smile back? He's already doing that. Does he offer her his arm like a gentleman? Maybe she'll think that's silly. Does he thank her? Ah, that's the way to go!

"Thank you," he says fervently, and she nods like this is totally what she really wants. He goes on, "I, uh, want to buy you your coffee, you know, to be all – all gallant. Or something."

"Aw, that's so nice of you," she coos, and when it comes time to pay, he does so with a sort of manly set to his mouth and shoulders. Huh, he seems really proud of this, more so than is normal. Maybe he's so shy he's never actually bought a gal coffee before?

Whatever it is, he seems to be on cloud nine as they walk leisurely out of the coffeeshop and head to the park. He's smiling to beat the band, he has a spring in his step, and he even hesitantly takes hold of her hand, and when she squeezes back he holds it more firmly. Kendappa can't help but feel, though, that she should be holding hands in a park with somebody else, somebody with black hair and green eyes and brown –

"So I realized we actually don't know each other all that well," Tenou is saying sheepishly, shattering that line of thought. "So, what are your parents like?"

"My mom – Imari – died when I was nine, and my father's in prison. I don't like to talk about him," Kendappa mutters, liberally glossing over the whole tragic story, and Tenou nods seriously like he'd never dream of prying. She goes on, "But I loved my mom, and I miss her. She was a small business owner, with a women's clothing boutique. But anyway, what are _your_ parents like?"

"They're _wonderful _parents, and I'm grateful every day that I have them. Their names are Aimi and Kichirou," Tenou tells her easily, smiling at a baby. "My mother is a housewife and my father is a college professor, so you see where I got my passion for education. My mom actually used to be a school receptionist, so we've all been involved in the education system."

Kendappa feels like that's not right, somehow, that those parents' names are not the correct ones. But why? And what would the correct names be anyway?

"I'm actually adopted," he's chattering on, and suddenly it all makes sense to Kendappa, why she has no idea. "I haven't a clue who my birth mother is or who my biological father was, but my mom and dad are the ones who raised me, so actually, they're my _real _parents, since they're the ones who love me. Sometimes I wonder why my birth mother gave me up, but then I always figure my life is so much better than it would've been if she hadn't done that."

"Yeah. Maybe you would've grown up dirt-poor, with a new abusive boyfriend to deal with every week. Or maybe it wouldn't have been that bad, but I agree that she did the right thing, handing you off to a couple who loves you," Kendappa says gaily, blinking up at the sun.

They make small talk like that, which Tenou pays rapt attention to. Kendappa smiles and enjoys his company, there's no doubt about that, but when she's home, she feels… dishonest.

.

It's eight days later, in the evening on a weekend. Kendappa's weekends are free but Souma's are mostly taken up with the farmer's market, but now that's the market's closed for the day, she can do something with Kendappa. They're going out to eat at a little restaurant that Souma loves and Kendappa's never been to, and the taller woman can't wait to introduce her friend to the yummy Indonesian cuisine.

Harimau is the name of the restaurant; it means "tiger" in Indonesian. The restaurant is doubly cool because the owner had a skilled muralist paint the outside and the inside walls, with scenes of tigers in the traditional style. The art is masterful and has been written up in a number of magazines, and the food is even better. Souma is _sure _that Kendappa will find something she likes, and even if she doesn't, Souma will ensure that it doesn't go to waste.

She waits for Kendappa for about ten minutes outside the restaurant, thinking all sorts of things over. Her own life, Kendappa's professional life, their friendship, the attraction to Kendappa, and even if maybe they should take some sort of buddy trip during the winter, when the herbs aren't in need of tending. Winters tend to be leaner times for Souma, but perhaps if she starts saving now they can take a short trip down to a southern island, or something. It's possible that they could even double up on a room, to save funds.

Yeah… doubling up on a room. Of course they'll start out with separate beds, but then the sexual tension will become too overwhelming to ignore. Souma will passionately reveal her feelings for Kendappa as the shorter woman is clad only in a short towel, and then Kendappa will enthusiastically reply –

"Hey hey! There's my favorite ninja," Kendappa laughs from behind her, and Souma turns with a chuckled, "It's karate I'm a black belt in, not ninjitsu."

"Eh, I still think you're a ninja," Kendappa unconcernedly replies, and it's very true. Souma is flattered, but says nothing else and steers Kendappa inside, explaining a bit about Harimau's art.

Once seated at the table, the voice actress stares at the menu and mutters in an overwhelmed voice, "Souma, I have no idea what all this is. They didn't put any descriptions on the menu, so how is a newbie supposed to know what to order? I mean, what if I inadvertently end up ordering something like, I dunno, water buffalo eyeballs or something?"

"Oh, stop it," her friend smirks, lightly whacking Kendappa over the head with her menu. "I'll recommend some things, and I'll explain what they are too. I know you like spicy food, so beef rendang is a good bet. See, it's beef in a curry sauce – they call it padang – with rice, they have rice with everything just like we do. If you want something _really _spicy, you could add the cabia hijau. That's green chilies. It's very good, every bit of it."

"Well, see, I'm going to play it safe if I have that, and start with the standard spiciness," is Kendappa's serious reply, and that's a wise rule of thumb when trying new food. "It sounds good, but what else would you recommend?"

"Well, I usually have the oxtail soup," Souma answers as her mouth waters already. "Actually, it's made from the ox's backbone and meat, not the tail, but that's the name. It's spicy too, and I always get the barbecued beef with it. I'd be happy to let you try some, if you want. It's got potatoes, tomatoes, and carrots, pretty standard stuff, but the spices like ginger and cloves are what make it stand out."

Souma explains a couple more interesting dishes, but Kendappa decides to go with the beef rendang. The waitress grins and replies, "Excellent choice," after she orders that, then goes off to get their drinks. The restaurant is busy but not too busy, so hopefully they won't have to wait very long to get the grub. Which is good because Kendappa is suddenly starving, smelling all this delicious food in the air.

"So what's new with you?" Souma asks so nonchalantly, a question Kendappa's been expecting and somehow dreading. She doesn't know why, but telling Souma about Tenou makes her feel most uncomfortable. But she should, because he's pretty important and Souma will probably meet him eventually anyway.

"I'm dating someone now," Kendappa casually replies, and Souma feels a sinking in her chest. Oh. A significant other. And here Souma was thinking she might be ready to ask Kendappa out herself.

But she rallies and forces a cheerful tone into her voice, as she asks, "What's his name?"

_Or her name, which would be sickeningly ironic._

"His name's Tenou," Kendappa tells her with a half-smile, and Souma struggles to recall why that name seems familiar. Where has she heard it before? It's unusual, not common at all, so surely she's encountered a man with that name sometime in her life.

"He's, um… he's a younger man," Kendappa goes on in a rush. "He's still in college, actually. He's a, er, freshman studying to be a teacher."

"Cradle robber," Souma teases in a good-natured voice, deciding to be happy for Kendappa. "He must really be something for you to date a younger guy, that or I just never noticed your fondness for the junior set."

Kendappa is truthful in her reply of "Oh, he's very sweet. He's very devoted too. Buys me whatever he can when we're out on the town, sends these touching little texts, gave me a necklace I really like that I think was a little too pricy for a college student to actually afford… he treats me like I'm a princess."

As Souma says something about how that's so nice, Tenou's girlfriend adds in her head, _But I don't want to __be__ a princess. I like doing things for myself, and I don't like being treated like I'm helpless. What Tenou really needs is some woman who likes being catered to. But of course if I say that I'll break his poor little heart, and I don't want to do that. I should just learn to like it, maybe._

"Well, if he ever does something you don't like, remember that I'm always here to talk about it," Souma offers with all her soul, visions of Kendappa sobbing into her shoulder in her head. Then she makes herself say, "But so far he sounds very sweet."

"I have a really, _really _hard time seeing Tenou treating me badly," Kendappa seriously tells her. "He's like a Boy Scout or something, times ten."

Souma all of a sudden doesn't want to talk about lucky Tenou anymore, and changes the subject to "Samurai Schoolgirl Monster Harem." The voice of Yoko-chan is more than happy to let her, and until the food comes, Kendappa talks shop and Souma listens avidly. Fascinating, the inner workings of a recording studio. She never really realized how much hard work it takes to voice a character, but Kendappa makes her see just how much effort you have to expend.

The food is good – scratch that, the food is _delicious_. Kendappa chuckles to Souma that the rendang is plenty spicy, so it's a good thing she didn't get the cabia hijau with it, "Or I'd be breathing flames!"

"Dragon lady," Souma giggles, and they both laugh like loons. One older couple sends them a glare, because boisterous young women should be quiet!

Kendappa has to get a box for the rest of the rendang. But that's okay, because this means lunch is set for tomorrow! Mmm, yummy. Her coworkers will all crowd around the microwave and ask what that wonderful smell is, and if they're polite enough maybe she'll give them a little taste. _Maybe_.

But even though she needed a box for the entrée, Kendappa lets herself be convinced to have some kacang hijau: a dessert made from mung beans, coconut milk, and palm sugar. Because it's summer now, Souma ordered it to be served cold. It too is quite good, and Kendappa eats more of it than she expected to. Souma fantasizes about feeding it to her, briefly before she remembers that she's supposed to be acting platonic. But really, where's the harm in imagining it? So she does, and later that night, like usual, the fantasy turns sexy.

And unbeknownst to her, shamed but unable to stop, Kendappa is doing much the same thing. Minus the kacang hijau part.

.

Souma has been having mighty interesting dreams, for the past five weeks. She doesn't realize this, but they actually started a week after she met Kendappa. Now, three weeks after Harimau, they've really begun to gain steam, filling her head every night. They're of Tenkai, and they mostly focus on Kendappa. When Souma has them it feels like she's really there, and has been living in the dream world for many, many years. She is somewhat perplexed by the richness of the setting, but reminds herself that she's always had a vivid imagination. She has no idea, yet, that her imagination could never have conjured magnificent Tenkai in so much detail.

The majority of her dreams are happy, and yet there is this sense that she lost something precious. She lives in the moment in the dreams, never remembering just why she's there or why she wears all black (for mourning?), just that she's hiding in plain sight. Occasionally she dreams about a tall, elegant older woman, so stunning it sometimes makes her feel inadequate. But mostly she dreams about the pretty, big-eyed harpist, the one who makes her heart beat faster.

Souma figures that these dreams are merely telling her that she's in love with Kendappa, which she's already aware of. Did it move very fast? Yes, but occasionally love works like that. It's such rotten luck that Kendappa's taken, by a man no less. Oh well, the herbalist/martial artist thinks glumly as she waits for Kendappa in a park, she can't see the future. It's certainly possible that Tenou and Kendappa will have a screaming row, and then Souma can swoop in and make things all better.

This time when she arrives at the meeting place Kendappa is just arriving too, from the opposite direction. They agreed to meet at a certain sculpture, that of a big cat in motion, and they wave and call out to each other, grins on their faces. But then, they always smile when they're together.

_I have these dreams of you, _Souma thinks as Kendappa walks closer. _We're in fancy ethnic clothes and your hair is so long, decorated with such lovely hair jewelry, and we're smiling at and wanting each other. Often you're playing a fantastic harp, and I could watch your fingers move for hours…_

Whoops, bad thoughts again. Remember the boyfriend, Souma? The cute little eighteen-year-old who wants to be a teacher? Yup, thoughts like that aren't good with Teacher Boy around. Not that she's ever met him, and Kendappa honestly doesn't talk about him very much, but he's a fact of life and Souma is no relationship-wrecker. She has morals, and even though she _is_ in love with Kendappa, all she can in good faith do is wait for Kendappa to break up with Tenou. If she ever will.

"Hi Souma," Kendappa chirps, unaware of her friend's thoughts. "How are you today?"

"I'm great. How about you?"

"I'm in the mood for some walking," Kendappa informs her as they meet in front of the statue. "Down by some of the shops. Maybe just window shopping, maybe actual shopping if something catches my eye, but I got a nice paycheck the other day and I feel like treating myself to something. Heck, I'll treat you too!" she says generously, patting Souma on the shoulder.

"Oh no, I can't let you buy something for me!" Souma tries to protest, but Kendappa will have none of it.

She shakes her head hard and insists, "But I want to. I don't expect you to ask for diamond jewelry, but maybe some handmade, artisan jewelry with no precious stones. Or an ice cream cone, or something. I want to treat you to _something_, and I'll do it even if you tell me not to."

Souma reluctantly agrees, but makes a mental vow not to show great interest in anything. Of course, if she does that, she might end up with something she doesn't like that Kendappa pushed on her. Sigh, generous friends are such a burden sometimes.

But as it turns out, she _does _find something she likes: a t-shirt, with a lovely print of a moon and a lady in kimono on it. The lady has brown skin, very unusual in Japanese art, and she asks the artist selling it from a cart, "Is this of anyone?"

"My girlfriend," he proudly answers. "Her hair isn't _that _long, and she doesn't own a kimono that fancy, but it's definitely her. She has the original on her wall."

How does one walk away from _that? _Kendappa knows what Souma's going to say before she says it, and happily tells the artist, "We'll take a medium. A medium will fit you, right Souma?"

"Heck, try it on," the artist generously offers, and Souma does, over her tank top. It fits pretty darn well, so Kendappa almost gleefully hands over the money, making everybody happy. The artist gets some much-needed funds, Souma gets a nice shirt, and Kendappa gets the joy of giving. It's win-win-win!

After they wander a little farther, an unusual store catches their eyes. It's a music store, but it only has harps in the window. Harps! Souma remembers Dream Kendappa's skillful harp music, and Kendappa suddenly has the keen, overwhelming need to go in and look. She tugs Souma inside, and while the shop is fairly small, the selection is very good. There are harp styles from all over the world, not just the standard kotos common in Japan.

An Indian-style harp catches her eye, different from the rest, and yet it seems rather familiar. She bypasses the kotos, the Celtic harps, and even an African harp, and heads to this one. It's more of a semicircle than a triangle, and it's quite large, nearing the size of the Celtic harps. You'd have to rest it between your legs to play it, and she has the sudden, swamping urge to do just that. It's plainer than she thinks it should be, no ornamentation, and yet somehow it seems very, very familiar.

"You have good taste, miss," a pleasant male voice comes from her left. She turns to see the proprietor, who goes on, "That's an Indian harp, right enough, and that style is rare around here."

"There are so many kinds," Kendappa says a bit faintly. "Do you make all of them?"

"Well, not me personally, but my artisans do. We are world-famous, and not like most small businesses are when they say that, known to one or two people in one other country," the proprietor smugly informs them. "We get orders from musicians all over the globe! The internet has been a major boon for us," he grins, gently patting the Indian harp.

"Can I try to play it?" Kendappa practically blurts out, her fingers itching to touch the strings. "I promise I'll be gentle with it."

"Of _course _you can play it, miss. Have you ever played before?" he asks politely, urging her to sit down.

_Yes, I played a harp like this for hundreds of years, _her mind says, but she ignores that irrational thought and replies, "No, never. But I really just want to try, because it's so beautiful. I'm not thinking of buying it," she hastens to tell him, lest he think she's a serious customer and thus will bombard her with salesmanship.

"All right. You may still play it," he assures her with another smile, running a gentle hand down the strings as she seats herself at the harp. "It's perfectly tuned, you won't have to worry about that. You play it with the tips of your thumb and first three fingers, and –"

She doesn't need any more tutorials. She just starts playing, cutting him off. She _knows _each string, each sound they make, and she knows how to make a melody. The song just sailed into her head; it's the one she would often play all alone, thinking of Souma on her quest. Kendappa plays as if bewitched, as Souma stares in surprise and the proprietor grins. The music isn't perfect, because sometimes she messes up, but it's still that of someone who's played the harp many, many times before.

For two full minutes she plays, and she could have gone longer, but then she opens her eyes and sees Souma looking at her with awe. She finishes the musical phrase with a flush on her cheeks, and when the notes fade in the air, Souma and the proprietor break into enthusiastic applause. And that, too, seems incredibly familiar.

"And here you told me you'd never played before," the proprietor scolds. "You're a little rusty, but you sure know what you're doing!"

"But I –"

Kendappa checks her insistence that she's never in her life played any sort of harp, because then they'll get into an argument. But it's so _odd_, that her fingers knew the strings and her mind knew the melody. It's not normal at all, and it frightens her, honestly. Where did that knowledge come from?

Souma beams like the sun, and tells her friend, "You should buy it! You're so good, and I'd love to hear you play again. I could listen to it for hours," she says honestly, patting Kendappa on the shoulder.

"Oh yes, miss, you _should _buy it, listen to your friend," the proprietor wheedles, suddenly going into salesman mode. "Harps like this are hard to find. You'd never be able to buy another one here in Tokyo unless it was an antique, and then it would be ludicrously expensive. This one is a hundred thousand yen, but we have payment options because we're nice like that. You could pay for it monthly, like a car."

Yes, she could. She _definitely _could, and she could pay it off pretty fast, if her paycheck stays the same. She could have this harp, maybe customize it once she pays it off, add some blue paint, some fancy gold accents and blue gems – er, blue fake gems. Sapphires the size of what she was envisioning don't exist, and she couldn't afford very many small ones anyway.

"I'll take it," she decides all at once, nodding firmly. "But I'm taking the subway and the bus home, so can you, I dunno, wrap it up?"

"Most certainly. We wrap all of our harps for transport."

Once outside, Kendappa lugging her new, bubble-and-paper-wrapped instrument, Souma says to her, "That was amazing, Kendappa. Where did you learn to play?"

"I… Souma, I don't know," she admits with a bit of fear in her voice. "When I said I'd never played before, I was telling the truth. But it felt like… oh, this is so dumb, but it felt like I _had _played before, a zillion times. And that melody? It just popped into my head. You can't tell anybody about all this weird stuff, okay?" she desperately begs.

"I would never tell anyone anything you don't want me to," Souma promises with all she is. "But that's very, very interesting. You know, I – okay, this is weird too, but sometimes I have dreams about you playing a really fancy harp, one that looks a lot like that one. So if you're crazy, I'm crazy too. Or maybe we're secretly psychic, and we're getting flashes of a past life," she thinks aloud.

"That would be so cool," Kendappa decides, thinking that such an idea very might well be correct. "And it would mean we were friends then too, right?"

Souma sends her a smile and replies, "Of course! We were _best _friends."

"Total sweetness."

Once she's finally back at her apartment, much nicer than Souma's, Kendappa gently unwraps the harp. Ooh, it's so pretty. It's so pricy too, but it's worth it, completely. She'd like to play it right now, but she has some emails to catch up on, since she's been neglecting that for a couple of days. So she turns her computer on, and slogs through them with a sigh.

But the strings call to her, and soon she shuts her computer down and goes over to the harp. Yes it's evening, but it's not like she's playing the electric guitar or something. Harp music by its very nature is soothing, and heck, insomniac neighbors might even appreciate hearing it. Thus convinced that she's all right, she settles herself into the position that feels like she's done it a thousand times, and lets her fingers coax the music from the strings.

She plays a new song this time, this one slower, almost languorous. It's a piece about lovers: a woman who dreamed of her man while he was away, meeting him in her mind as she slept. The music is very soothing, and she once played it for a servant's child who was ill and having a hard time sleeping with the pain, not that she remembers that. She does seem to almost slip into a musical trance, where nothing exists but her, the harp, and the sounds, as all great musicians are able to do at least part of the time.

She even forgets how unnatural this talent is. Maybe, deep in her mind, she's decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

.

Souma dreams of Tenkai, like she's dreamed before. This one is a mite different though, because Kendappa's not in it, but she's very much occupying Souma's mind. Souma is waiting in a campsite for Yasha and Ryuu to come back, while Ashura's asleep. She's looking up at the bright stars and the brighter moon, pleased that it's a crescent like her weapons, and wondering if Kendappa is seeing the same thing right now.

_Oh, my lady, _she thinks longingly as she gazes at it, _are you looking at this and thinking of me? Whenever I touch my earring, I think of you, and whenever I see a certain shade of blue, it reminds me of your eyes._

Sudden movement in her ears makes her turn, her weapons drawn, then she sighs in resignation and stows them again at what she sees: that strange wandering player, Kujaku. It's completely unnatural that he can sneak up on her like that, but Souma is aware that he means the party no harm. He's particularly fond of Ashura, and Yasha too. He hasn't met Ryuu yet (they're on their way to Kusumapura), but somehow the ninja thinks that Ryuu might not like this goofy yet probably dangerous guy.

"Eek, a mad ninja!" Kujaku grins incorrigibly, and she puts her finger to her lips, points to Ashura, and whispers, "Don't wake him up, he needs his sleep."

Kujaku nods, bends down to gently stroke some hair out of the child's face, and goes over to Souma with a soft, "Don't worry, I know he's tired. Walking all day, and yesterday too. Of course, Daddy carried him an awful lot."

Souma doesn't even ask how he knows that. He was obviously following, but for the life of her she can't figure out how. Maybe he can make himself invisible or something, because she's a master at scouting and tracking, and she can never find any evidence of Kujaku. Not even the faintest part of a footprint. If she believed that gods could fly she'd think that was it, but not even the Karuras can fly without a bird to ride on. And it still doesn't explain how she never sees him.

"So tell me, Ninja Lady, why you were staring up at the moon and smiling," Kujaku chuckles, perching on the rock across from her. "Thinking of someone, perhaps?"

"Yes," she firmly agrees. "The person I love, the one dearer to me than anyone else in the world. But I'm not telling you who that is, because you wouldn't even know who I was talking about."

"Oh? Wrong, wrong! You're in love with Lady Kendappa, I know you are. I see what's goin' on, and I know _exactly _why you only have the one earring right now," Kujaku reveals with a wink and a grin, and all Souma can say in reply is a weak, "Well, _you're _attracted to Yasha, I can tell."

Kujaku looks taken aback for an unguarded second, then he slumps and sighs, "And here _I'm _supposed to be the one who knows things others don't. How did you figure that out?"

"As I told Ryuu, it's my job to know whatever I can about people who interact with Ashura," she seriously tells him, but with a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. "You watch Yasha an awful lot, more than you watch Ashura. You told him where the Shura Sword is – I still want to know how you knew that, but I don't think you'll ever tell me – and you keep trying to touch him even when he makes it clear it makes him uncomfortable. I mean, it's only a pat on the shoulder here and there, but you know how he is."

"Yeah, he's Mr. 'No Touchie,' " Kujaku mutters a tad sullenly, pouting like a small child. "Makes it very difficult."

They sit in silence for a while, just watching Ashura, until finally Souma asks, "Why Yasha?"

"Oh, a couple reasons, really. I met him before you did, and I was like, 'Wow, that is one good-looking guy.' And I feel kinda protective toward him, even though you'd think he could protect himself from anything. But things are coming that are more darkly powerful than any of you could imagine," he murmurs gravely, and she feels a chill at his words.

She starts to ask, "Like what?" but just then the snap of a twig sounds, and she turns around to study the subsequent sounds. Okay, tall, heavy man, moving like he knows to be silent for the most part, and smaller person, moving like he/she has no clue how to be silent. Oh, it's just Yasha and Ryuu back.

She turns back to Kujaku, only to blink in surprise that he's not there. He just _vanished! _She'd be scared… if he wasn't on their side. As it is, she thinks that maybe his power will be helpful.

Then the dream changes, going back in time to Kendappa. Kendappa is looking at Souma with her heart on her face, telling her not to go with Yasha because it's too dangerous. But Souma insists, giving Kendappa one of her precious earrings as a solemn promise to return to her. Kendappa takes it with a smile, and then, unlike it how really was, Souma has the inundating sense of dread, of things not being what they seem. Like there's a lie here, but her mind is too afraid to show her what it is.

That's when she wakes up, with a frown on her face and her heart pounding fast. Why does she think Kendappa is lying? Is this a past life thing where she really _was_, or is this a present life thing where Souma's subconscious is saying that Kendappa's not being truthful with her?

It has to be a past life thing, if it's real, Souma decides as she puts an arm over her eyes. She's yet to see Kendappa tell even a little white lie. So whatever it is, if it isn't just a bad dream, it can't be affecting them now.

She makes her mind turn back to her ninja abilities, proud of them. They leave her karate abilities in the dust! She's shown Kendappa some karate patterns, and they were good ones, but in her dreams she had abilities beyond human: to jump incredibly high, to whip those twin moons leaves out of nowhere, and to use magic too. Oh, how nice it would be to have those goddess-like skills. She'd win every mixed martial arts competition she entered, because some of those movements were definitely not from karate.

Kendappa is impressed by Souma's skills, and Souma keeps pushing her to attend a class. But Kendappa is so busy, it never seems to materialize. Souma worries about her, actually, because what if she needs the moves one day and doesn't have them?

_I just have to work harder on her, _she vows to herself. _After all, I'm not always there to protect her._

_._

The very next night, in fact, Kendappa could have used those moves or Souma to protect her… before a formerly dormant personality rouses with a vengeance, at least. But for now she has no inkling of any of that – well, she does have an inkling that it's risky walking alone as a woman in this neighborhood. She's coming back from another friend's apartment, walking to the bus stop, and unfortunately she's not paying attention to her surroundings like someone in that situation should.

It happens quickly. She passes by an alley, right next to the entrance, and a steely arm shoots out and drags her into the shadows. She tries to scream, but a huge hand covers her mouth as she's pulled farther and farther back, until the street is a small strip of light much too far away for anyone to see her. There are two attackers, one who holds her and another in front of her with a knife, and the holding one has both her wrists behind her back with one meaty hand.

"Now don't you scream," he tells her with a cruel grin in his voice, sadistic and so arrogantly evil it makes her see red. "You just do exactly what we say, you fucking slut bitch, or we'll kill you."

Fury breaks over her then, bursting out of its cage where she didn't even know it was held. How _dare _these terrible people think they can rape her, like they have the right to do whatever they want no matter how it torments someone else? Men like this are headed to Hell, but that upcoming judgment isn't good enough. No, they deserve painful death, and she deserves to be unmolested.

And she will _kill them_, she suddenly knows this just as she knows her name is Koto Kendappa.

Her eyes narrow, becoming colder than ice, and her body knows just what to do. She stomps on her captor's instep harder than she'd ever stomped before, and at the same time she slams her head back, breaking his nose with her skull. He roars in pain and the second one goes in with a knife, but she's wrenched her wrists free and now twists to the side, so he in fact stabs his friend before he can stop himself. That's not enough, that's not _nearly _enough, and she gets behind him only to leap onto his back and kick the back of his head, knocking him out.

She's still not done. She kicks the first one in the face, driving the splinters of his broken nose into his brain. He falls, moaning and twitching and dying, as she frantically grabs the knife. Now comes the coup de grace, and she hauls the second rapist up, stabbing the blade into his heart, she somehow knows exactly where it is. It would've been easier to slash his throat, but she's going for as little blood as possible here.

Now they're dead, both of them, and the only sounds she made were the sounds of her feet and head hitting flesh. But they screamed, so she has to get out of here quickly, and she realizes that she very well might spend time in prison for killing them. After all, it's only her story that she was attacked, and she very well could have knocked them out and left them. So she closes the knife, sticks it in her bloodied hoodie pocket, and runs for her life.

Fate is kind to her because no one notices, they're all too far away, and she zeroes in on a trash can by the curb. Yes, goodbye favorite hoodie, after making sure she's gotten what she needed out of the pockets, and anything that could identify her. She closes the lid, and slows to a normal, casual walk, because nothing grabs people's attention like someone running.

The garbage will be picked up bright and early tomorrow, she knows this for a fact. If the police don't think to search this far, they won't find the hoodie in time. And even if they do, they have no reason to suspect her. Any DNA from hair or skin cells that they get won't be in their database, because Kendappa's never been arrested in her life. Of course, there's always the chance a neighbor might get wind of the hoodie and call in with a tip, but honestly, that's a pretty slim chance.

She keeps on walking, towards the bus stop, then suddenly stops short, the enormity of what happened crashing into her all at once. Where did all that _come _from, those warrior abilities? Yeah, she took a self-defense class when she was in high school, but she hasn't kept in practice and she never learned the back-jumping kick thing, or where to stab the chest so the ribs wouldn't stop the knife. The visual memory is almost hazy, as if something else took over and Kendappa just watched, but that's not true, because she well remembers the emotions she felt.

It was frightening, terrifying even, not just the attack but her reaction too. She makes herself take deep breaths as her heart pounds, and focuses on grounding herself. She uses all five senses, because that's the best way to go.

So: she sees a dark city, the bus stop coming up fast, with a man turning the corner thirty feet away, looking grouchy. She hears a car coming up behind her, and the muffled roar of traffic. She smells exhaust, food, and asphalt. She opens her mouth to try to taste something, and she tastes the exhaust tingeing the air, ew. And she feels the cool night air on her bare arms, now that she tossed the hoodie away.

_It's working, _she thinks in relief. _I can't focus on what I did now, it's not safe. When I get home, then I can start trembling and have to sit down. For now… oh look, a rat in the gutter! Fascinating._

It is, deliberately so. She makes herself pay grand attention to little things like that, and when the bus comes, she mindfully swipes her bus pass, mindfully sits down, and watches the city fly by the windows in rapt fascination. It's all she can do, and she's doing it well.

Finally she's at her stop, and she thanks the bus driver as she leaves. She walks back to her apartment as quickly as she can, this time staying as far away from the alleys as possible. Wouldn't that be so ironic, to be attacked once and then be attacked again? Well… she would kill those attackers too, she knows that as she comes in sight of the apartment entrance.

She makes it to her door, opens it, walks in, and starts to tremble like a leaf. Fear and shock now make themselves fully known, and she breathes harshly, almost hyperventilating. Before she has a panic attack, she decides that she has to talk to someone, both to distract herself and because this is too big to hold inside. Talking helps, it helps everybody at some point, and she needs it now like never before.

It hasn't even entered her head to call Tenou. Nope, she instinctively knows that _Souma _is the one to talk to about this, because Souma will immediately understand and try to protect her, even saved her once already. Souma is her best friend, and since her boyfriend isn't nearly as important or close to her as her BFF, the choice is blindingly clear.

So she speed-dials her, and each ring seems like a century, until Souma's pleasant, wonderfully calming voice greets, "Hello, Kendappa. How are you doing?"

"Souma," she whispers shakily into the phone, "Souma, I killed two people just now. This isn't a joke, I did."

On the other end, Souma immediately goes into "hide the evidence" mode, because Kendappa can't be arrested and locked away from her! Souma refuses to entertain the idea that it was premeditated murder, and is correctly convinced that it was self-defense. Kendappa doesn't seem like the type of person to kill unless it was sorely needed.

"What happened, Kendappa?" she whispers back, urgent and afraid. "And where are the bodies?"

"I was – I was walking to the bus stop," Kendappa relates in a quavering voice, "and I should've been more wary, you know, stayed farther away from the alleys, but I was grabbed and pulled in. Two men, they had a knife, and they wanted to rape me. So I fought them," she says firmly, her confidence coming back, and the anger too.

"Souma, I don't know if my subconscious picked up abilities from watching you, but I was like a _ninja_. I did this jump thing onto one of their backs to kick him in the head, and I drove bone splinters into the other one's brain. Then I stabbed the first one right through the heart, and left them lying in that alley. If I'd been thinking I would've hidden the bodies, but I felt like getting away was the most important thing. My sweatshirt was all bloody so I put it in a –"

"Kendappa, you need to talk to the _police_," Souma commands, feeling great relief that it was so clearly self-defense. "No one could blame you for –"

"Yes they could. Because you see, I _could've _just run away without killing them, and the guy I stabbed was out cold. I mean, that's more than manslaughter," Kendappa tells her, and there is some truth to that.

Souma is silent on the other end, thinking. _She _views it as total self-defense, because c'mon, criminals often go after people who report them to the authorities. Souma would argue in court that Kendappa was making sure she was never threatened by those monsters again, and most female jurors (and some male jurors too) would completely agree. On the other hand, the criminals' families' lawyers would whine that Kendappa should've just incapacitated them and run, because those "poor" rapists _totally _didn't deserve to be killed for trying to torment someone and scar her for life. It's bullshit, but the legal system thrives on bullshit when it comes to defending those who've hurt someone else.

Finally Souma murmurs, "All right, we'll just never speak of this again, okay? And if anybody asks, you were with me at the time of the killings. We were at my apartment, and we were watching – um – oh, 'Howl's Moving Castle,' okay? Remember that one. I'll swear under oath you were with me, I promise I will."

"Thank you," Kendappa replies fervently – nay, desperately. "Souma, you're the best friend anyone could ever hope for."

"I'm just so glad you're okay," Souma practically sobs, clinging a white-knuckled grip onto her phone. "If they'd actually hurt you, I would have hunted them down and killed them myself. And I really mean that, I'm not exaggerating."

"I know," Kendappa honestly responds. "And thank you again. So… okay, I think I'm going to be all right. Like you said, we'll never speak of this again. I'm suddenly really tired, so goodnight, best friend in the whole wide world."

"Goodnight, Kendappa. I –" Souma almost says "love you," but catches herself and instead says, "– hope you'll get some quality sleep. Take care of yourself, okay? If you need anything, no matter what time it is, call me. I'll keep my phone on my nightstand, and if you _do_ need to talk about it more, we can. We should just avoid doing so if there's the slightest chance of anybody else hearing."

"I will. Thanks again, Souma. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

With that they hang up, and Kendappa sighs as she shuts her phone off. Oh, Souma… Souma reacted just like Kendappa knew she would. The fact that Souma would have killed anyone who succeeded in hurting her pal brings a flush to Kendappa's face, and an elevated heart rate, and the thought, _I'd do the same for you, I really would, because you're the most important person to me in the whole wide world._

And that… _that _is when Kendappa realizes that for all the denial, for all the shame, for all the time spent trying to avoid it, she _loves _Souma. The dark woman is everything she ever wanted, deep in her soul: beautiful, sexy, intelligent, independent, strong, caring, sweet, and loyal. She's so much better than Tenou, she's so much better than any man could ever be, and –

But Kendappa can't act on this! She _can't_, because it's wrong, right? Japan pays lip service to accepting homosexuality, but guess how many rights same-sex couples get? Not a single, solitary one, they're strangers in the eye of the law. It's symptomatic of an underlying homophobia, in many cases not hidden at all. And Kendappa is steeped in this culture, for all she works in an industry where homosexuality is the new big thing. Male/male homosexuality, at least, which is another cultural signal, this one pointing to the deep-seated misogyny common to both men and women.

So no, she can't tell Souma she loves her. She can't tell anyone she's attracted to women. She _should _thus cut Souma out of her life if she's going to be like that, but she's greedy for the sight of and interaction with the beautiful best friend. She can deny herself the chance to have her love returned, but she cannot deny her need to have at least a part of Souma.

Suddenly, like a wave breaking over her, she's exhausted. Adrenaline finally seeped away, leaving tiredness like never before. So she doesn't even brush her teeth or take her clothes fully off, she just loses her pants and climbs into bed in her t-shirt. Thankfully, that doesn't have any blood on it.

She falls asleep the second her head hits the pillow, and not surprisingly, she has a nightmare. But it doesn't involve the attack, oh no. It involves Tenkai, and it's more horrible than the attack was.

She's waiting in an opulent hallway, her soul filled with nasty, vicious anticipation. She's not alone, either. She is flanked by two armored men, one beautiful with red hair, the other rugged with blue hair and really, _really _idiotic sideburns. They're lying in wait for their enemies, and while Kendappa is aware that the big one is very conflicted and afraid of what will happen, she and the redhead are looking forwards to this.

She doesn't feel like herself. In fact, she's never felt that way before in Tokyo, save for when she killed those men. She feels like dishing out pain is fun, that weak people are only good for the sport of the strong, and that love is merely a distraction. She feels crushing loyalty to her master, because he is so strong! He kills anyone who goes against him, he does it with a smile, and he cares nothing for anyone but himself. Which _obviously _means that he's the best person in the history of the world.

And then – an explosion, and five people dash in from the hole it created. A tall man with long chocolate hair, a small child with pointed ears and a high black ponytail, a pale woman with white hair and a large bird on her shoulder, a teenaged boy with ginger hair and a whopping sword, and… Souma. Souma, so beautiful and defiant and vibrant, but she will not survive this fight.

"Well, well. It's been a long time, Lord Yasha," Bishamonten smirks, calm despite the danger. "I'm afraid I cannot permit you to go any further. We Four Gods have given over our bodies and souls to be the sword and shield that protect the god-king's world. If you wish to see the god-king, you will have to go through us first!" he taunts, as all five of the interlopers stare at Kendappa in surprise.

_Fools fools fools, _that dark little internal voice snickers in her head. _You trusted me, and this is what you get for your naïve trust._

And suddenly – a ringing like a thousand bells, so loud in her ears that she puts a hand to her forehead and thinks in agony, _My head! _

But it seems not to affect Bishamonten and Zouchouten, although it does affect Karura, Yasha, Ryuu, Ashura, and Souma. And then, startling every person present, a beautiful translucent sword manifests in front of Ashura.

"The Six Stars are gathered," he says in a chilling, adult voice as he grasps it. "The dark stars that will defy the Heavens. They will be the schism that _splits_ the Heavens." Then he chuckles, "Heh-heh-heh… it has been too long. We're here at last, the prophecy is upon us. First, to punish the betrayer."

With that he leaps to a higher level of the castle, an unnatural leap Kendappa's only seen Souma do before. As Ryuu calls out his name, Ashura purrs, "You must fulfill your duty as a priestess of the Ashuras… _MOTHER!_" The last word is a murderous howl, frightening even Jikokuten, and Yasha frantically calls his son's name.

Ryuu goes after him, but Jikokuten doesn't really care. She'll hunt both of them down later, or Bishamonten or Zouchouten will. They can't hope to escape, no one can.

And then …

"Lady Kendappa," Yasha says a persuasive voice, "lend us your strength. You are part of Kuyou's prediction, the last of the Six Stars. We can only fulfill the prophecy with your help. We need you. Let us defeat Taishakuten together!" he cries passionately, and Karura echoes it with an equally passionate, "Lady Kendappa!"

The time is now, to break apart their pathetic little worldview, to reveal the truth after three hundred years. So with a small, cruel smile on her face, she tells them who she really is, with savage words they never in their wildest dreams imagined she would speak. She can see that they don't believe it, any of them, and she watches Souma put a hand to her right ear, where the claw earring hangs. Its twin is still in Kendappa's left ear, because even Jikokuten couldn't make her take it off –

And then battle is joined, Zouchouten advancing to meet Karura like Jikokuten knew he would, so she or Bishamonten can't kill his little bird. Stupid, weak, overrated man, to hang back from what he wanted for so long, and Jikokuten is willing to bet that even now, he won't tell Karura he loves her. It doesn't matter though, because she at least will die when she attacks Taishakuten. Zouchouten may well die too, not that it really matters to Jikokuten. He _was _her friend, but those were the old days.

Bishamonten faces Yasha. And Jikokuten faces Souma, Souma pulling her punches and pleading with her that she cannot fight her. Ho ho, but Jikokuten cannot stand weak people! She tells her so, throwing her back with her sword, and Souma softly cries, "My lady…"

Tokyo Kendappa is frightened of this, horrified at what her dream self is doing and feeling. Stop, STOP! She doesn't want to experience such awful things! But the dream doesn't stop, just rushes ahead to Ryuu's death far out of her sight.

And she watches other lives flicker out: Karura's death, Bishamonten's death, Kisshouten's death. They don't matter to Jikokuten, because all three are weaker than herself and Taishakuten. Kisshouten and Karura would have mattered a few days ago, but not anymore. As for Bishamonten, he was another weak fool, another who didn't tell his beloved what he felt until it was too late.

Then Ashura reveals himself, and suddenly she is frightened. God of destruction?! Ah, but _Taishakuten _will kill him, even if he comes up from Ashura Castle fully realized. Tokyo Kendappa hopes that her dream self will stop hurting Souma now, will come to her senses and realize that Ashura is the greater threat, but no. When Souma attacks Taishakuten, Jikokuten stops her.

Kendappa wants to wake up, she doesn't want to see how this ends. But she can't control her body in this dream, and the body tells Souma that _she _will kill her, not her insanely respected (EVIL!) Taishakuten. And she stabs her, going _right through_ her precious body –

"AAAAAAAH!" Kendappa screams, sitting bolt upright in bed with cold sweat on her skin and wide, terrified eyes. Souma, Souma! Not dear _Souma! _What an atrocious, bone-chilling memory.

"I killed her," she sobs aloud, unaware of what she's doing. "I killed her!"

_I ran her through, I murdered that poor woman who was only doing what she thought was right. I killed Souma, the woman I loved!_

For long moments she can't think of Tokyo, just of the tragedy of Tenkai, but finally misguided rationality makes itself known. How could that dream be a memory? She would _never _kill Souma! It was all just a crazy flight of her subconscious, right?

Her sobs slow, finally halt, and she sniffles as she wipes her eyes with her sheet. Ugh, that was the worst nightmare she's ever had, worse than the ones after she heard Renji kill Imari. And the most terrible part was the way she felt, that tugged-in-two sense and that bloodthirsty appetite for friends' and a lover's deaths. It's a frightening way to feel, but she convinces herself that it won't come back, it was just because she killed the rapists earlier tonight. That's all it is! That's all it _has _to be, please let this be true.

And so, with the death of the rapists, Jikokuten has come back into Kendappa's mind, though she doesn't recognize her yet. And she will be the catalyst for massive, crippling upcoming heartache.

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(AN: A koto is an interesting harp: it's played flat, and a has a long board instead of an arm. "Tsuki" is "moon," but I'm betting some of you already knew that one. "Ouji" means "imperial prince," and "Kaminari" is "thunder." If you're annoyed that Tenou's here and horning in on Kendappa… c'mon, people, you know this installment is Souken, and I have to deal with canon and "Four Feathers." It's important for him to be hanging around because of upcoming segments of this fic.

Thanks to Tata/lilychic for telling me all about Indonesian foods! Hopefully you enjoyed seeing your country's cuisine in this story, friend of mine.

Please review, all you Souken fans, even if this is the only chapter you've read and will read. If you abandon this, I would really, really like to know why so I can try to avoid it next time.)


	7. In the Ward

**Chapter Six: In the Ward**

(AN: This chapter contains what is, to _my_ knowledge, the first Souken lemon in existence. But I'm betting someone's written one first in another language or many years ago. If so, I'd sure like to read it.)

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It's only two days after the attack and the subsequent nightmare, and Kendappa feels… a little off. Occasionally something will annoy her, and she'll feel out-of-proportion anger as her eyes narrow. It's weird, and she doesn't like it. She _especially _doesn't like the cutting little thoughts that seem to come out of nowhere, thoughts it sometimes frightens her to think. Does the neighbor down the hall _really _deserve to have his head chopped off for playing his music too loud? No, of course he doesn't, but that's what she thought.

She shakes her own head violently, as if trying to dislodge something inside. Then she sighs, glances at her clock, and says aloud, "I wonder when Tenou will –"

The "Bzzt!" of the intercom cuts her off, and Tenou's voice says, "Kendappa? I'm here. Can you let me in, please?"

He's always so polite, she thinks as she replies in the affirmative. She buzzes him in, and in no time at all she hears a knock on her door, hesitant and soft. Yup, that's Tenou all right. She crosses over and opens it, to see that he's holding flowers. The bouquet came from a grocery store yes, but it was still more than he should really be spending as a poor college student. Heck, he skimped on actual food, just loaded up on instant noodles instead of the deli meat he'd thought about getting earlier.

"These are for you," he tells her pleasantly. "I hope you like them."

_You annoy me, _that mean part of her hisses, and she feels shocked that she thought that about him. But he's so sweet!It's not _nice _to think things like that about devoted, caring boyfriends, who give her her space and perform all these gallant little gestures.

So she smiles at him and accepts the flowers, telling him, "Aw, that is so sweet of you, thinking of me like that. Here, help me find a vase for them, okay?"

He does, as she scolds herself for thinking what she did. He's not annoying! Okay, maybe he's a _tiny _bit annoying, but he's not doing it on purpose and she's lucky to have him, right? Right, any woman would be flattered and fortunate to be dating Tenou, she thinks as she puts the flowers in the vase. His only real faults are the shrinking violet personality and the naiveté, and compared to many men's faults, those are small potatoes. Hell, all she has to do is look at Renji to see that Tenou is a catch.

She steps forward and kisses him, the first time she's initiated such an action. Why does she do it now? Because she feels bad about what she thought, and –

Suddenly his hands are on either side of her face, holding her close like he never wants to let her go. No tongue but _passion_, and his entire body is trembling hard. It startles her but he doesn't seem to want to stop, and her eyes shoot open to see that his are squeezed shut, his brows revealing strong emotion.

Finally he breaks it, and he looks deep into her eyes and breathes, "Oh gods. _Kendappa_, you – actually…"

His entire bearing seems to have changed, going from slightly wimpy to confident and self-assured, and he's standing so straight and tall he looks like some sort of king. There is a reason for this, and that reason is that he has _remembered_. This was the barrier to unlock his mind, Kendappa supposedly loving him, and now that he knows who and what they are, he can't speak for a moment, stunned by so many things.

She just gives him a confused and slightly scared look, worried about the passion behind that kiss. Uh-oh, he's fallen in actual _love_, she realizes with a sinking heart. Shit, _shit! _Now what is she supposed to do? She can't make herself give him the same thing back, and –

"Kendappa. My beautiful musician," he whispers reverently, laying a hand on her cheek. "Don't you realize who we are?"

"Uh… a seiyuu and a college student studying to be a teacher?" she says weakly, as the "beautiful musician" phrase echoes in her head.

"Well, sort of. We are that, yes," he admits, and even his voice is different, not as soft and hesitant, much more confident and kingly. "But we're other things too, things I've just realized. You know, ever since I met you, I kept remembering these events and people that I shouldn't have been remembering, all in a world far from here. Have you been remembering too?" he pleads, and she nods mutely, dumbfounded that Tenou had the same problems as she and Souma did.

He grins in relief and continues, "I thought so. That's because we've been reincarnated, from Tenkai. I was the prince, a rather incompetent prince yes, and you were the royal musician. Except," his face turns serious, "you were something else too, something I never suspected, and neither did anybody else."

Kendappa barely hears him, memories of Tenkai flashing in and out of her mind's eye: a flying castle, a fine harp that carried death, a tall man with long chocolate hair and a powerful sword, _Souma_, a tall woman with long wavy black hair and a sad demeanor, _Souma_, a pointy-eared child, a woman with a bird, Tenou in fantastic robes tucking a flower into her hair, Souma, Souma, _Souma_ –

"What was I?" she asks in a bare whisper, even though she doesn't want to know. "It was something bad, wasn't it?"

Tenou hesitates for only a moment, then he softly tells her, "Yes, very bad indeed. You were the General of the Eastland, even though you'd been helping the rebels and were in fact one of the Six Stars. My father and Bishamonten kept you hidden and no one else knew, not even the other Four Gods. But when Koumokuten was killed… my father revealed you to everybody, and I was shocked."

Yes, she remembers that! How everyone stared and gasped, how Tamara refused to acknowledge her, how Taishakuten had Zouchouten fight her in the very audience chamber. And then –

"And later that day, the rest of the Six Stars made it through the defenses of Zenmi," Tenou goes on, looking resigned and like he doesn't really want to be talking about this. "Lord Yasha, Lady Karura, Lord Ryuu, my twin brother Ashura, and Souma. I was somewhere else when they came, the only two I saw were Ashura and Ryuu – I'll tell you about that later, all you need to know now is that it was terrible – and you, Bishamonten, and Zouchouten fought the other three to try to prevent them from getting to Taishakuten."

Again, those visions. Horrible, violent, cruel, bloody, sadistic, tragic, senseless –

"And you – well, even though you loved her, you killed Souma."

Then comes the snap, the shatter of the memory barrier. _She killed Souma! _Kendappa loved her more than anyone else in the whole wide world, and she killed her, she killed her because of Taishakuten. What a _monstrous _action, and for what? Strength? What good is strength if there is no love? She knows that now, but it's too late, because she did it and she can't change that.

"NOOOO!" she screams aloud, her face turned towards the heavens and her fists clenching the innocent air. "SOUMA! Oh gods, I _did_, I murdered her!" she sobs, her eyes squeezed shut and her mind fully aware just what those nasty feelings indicate – Jikokuten, the entity that ruined everything in Tenkai.

Tenou tries to hug her, but she snarls, "DON'T!" and he jerks back like she punched him. Then he asks, as calmly as he can, "You remember it all now, yes?"

"I never _wanted _to be Jikokuten!" Kendappa cries, with tears escaping her tightly-shut eyelids. "I accepted because Taishakuten was strong, and once I met her… oh gods, I just wanted to be Lady _Kendappa_, because Lady Kendappa wasn't such a monster!"

Tenou says nothing, because what can he say? Prior evidence indicates that she _did _want to be Jikokuten, judging by her arrogant smile as she faced Zouchouten and the way she so proudly proclaimed who she was to the rebels, which he knows from Zouchouten's testimony. She didn't do the right thing and refuse to fight the woman she loved, she went ahead and killed her for her master. If that doesn't say, "I was comfortable being the General of the Eastland," nothing does.

But… there was always a contradiction wreathed around Kendappa. Even before he knew what she really was, he wondered how she could respect and serve the man who killed her father. Because she was a sweet person, and he _knows _that wasn't all a lie.

She liked children, she was Karura and Yasha's friend and Kisshouten's too, and she was always so nice to Tenou (but maybe only because she had no idea he had a thing for her). Zouchouten said she helped hide the fact that Karura was alive, and the mere fact that she saved Souma from Taishakuten's soldiers is a telling clue that part of her didn't agree with what he was doing. So, were there two people in Kendappa, or just two opposed parts of the same mind?

Tenou opens his mouth to ask, "Then why did you kill her?" but she shoves at his chest and rasps, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything, but you have to get out. NOW! I need to be alone, I need it more than anything else in the world right now."

The questions burn on his tongue, but he can easily tell that she's near the breaking point, and those questions would push her over the line. So instead he nods reluctantly, starts to bring his hand up to touch her cheek, then hastily lowers it and instead turns away. He walks to the door and she even shoves him along, but before he goes into the hallway, he turns and desperately tells her, "When you're ready to talk, call me."

"Sure," she lies so perfectly, but as she shuts the door, she thinks to herself, _I'm never calling you ever again. It was cruel of me to lead you on, and I refuse to do that anymore._

She doesn't bother locking the door, it doesn't matter anymore. Not in the face of her prior life, not in light of what she really is. General of the Eastland… psycho, bitch, monster, sociopath, liar, betrayer, murderer. She only cared about strong people!

But there is one fundamental truth that she never let herself examine before: Jikokuten was _weak_. Yes, weak. She hated weak people and looked down on them, and admired strong people, but when the chips are down, it takes more strength to go against someone powerful than serve them loyally. Oh, martial strength is one thing, and there she was very strong, but to kill Souma just because Taishakuten was stronger… that was the act of a coward.

The entire _existence _of Jikokuten was the act of a coward, of a little girl who saw her powerful father go down and became afraid. And she immediately covered up that fear by thinking, _Taishakuten is stronger, so I'll serve him._

It wasn't her idea to be the General of the Eastland, she'd just been thinking along musical and tribal lines. But Taishakuten studied her for long moments, then turned to Bishamonten and said, "The child's aura is very strong, stronger than yours. We mustn't let that strength go to waste."

What could a little girl have said to that? All she could do was agree, and in her mind, the division began. Little Sangiita (her birth name) was afraid, but little Jikokuten swooped in and did some neurological rearrangement. Little Jikokuten said this was _good_,and it would always be good to serve Taishakuten, she must never think otherwise. And that was that, Kendappa's journey to the dark side had begun.

So many times, she wished it hadn't, or at least that she didn't have to keep it secret. When she would see Yasha or Karura fighting on the training grounds, she would wish she could go down there and join them, school them even. They would all have fun sparring together, the Guardian Warriors would be so impressed, and she'd feel like she was really a member of this circle of friends, not somebody always secretly apart. But instead, she smiled and cheered and acted like their moves were beyond her skill, when hers were in fact beyond theirs.

And her mother… ah, the former royal musician, she never even suspected that her daughter was bound to the man who killed her husband. Of course, she was too wrapped up in Yasha – Yama, then – to really notice much of anything, but what kind of mother doesn't notice such fundamental changes in her child?

"A bad mother," Kendappa mutters in disdain, slumping at her kitchen table and burying her head in her hands. "I suppose I _could _blame her for all of it, because if she'd done her job, maybe I wouldn't have turned out so badly."

_But it's really all my fault. I made the free choices to do what I did. And Souma, dear sweet Souma, paid the price. No one else died because of what I did, just the woman I love. That's terrible._

She has to remove herself from Souma, before she hurts her again. Before Jikokuten comes back! She's moving in Kendappa's mind, whispering all about the would-be rapists and the way she felt no remorse in their overkill destruction, felt pride even in their painful deaths. If Souma gets caught in that again, if she suffers in _any _way, Kendappa can't take it. So the thing to do is make sure there's no chance of Souma getting sucked into this once more, and for Kendappa to be _punished_ for what she did. So, should she throw herself off a bridge?

That's a good idea, but she can tell she won't be able to do it. Should she attack someone and get arrested? No, that would be getting too close to Jikokuten. So where's a place she can get into easily, where you suffer and are watched closely and never let out if you don't cooperate?

And then it hits her: a mental ward. YES! Yes, her Tokyo father was shut up in one for months long before he killed her mother, and he said it was a lot like prison. All Kendappa has to do is tell them the truth, that she's a reincarnated goddess and killed the one she loved, and they'll think she's crazy. They'll stick her in there, and she'll just refuse to participate in any therapy. At that point they can put her on commitment, and basically keep her in an institution for as long as she lives, if they see no improvement.

_I am going to atone for all my sins, _she thinks as she wipes her eyes and pulls out her phone. _I'm going to get what I deserve, and when I die, I'll welcome Hell. I made the wrong choices and I know that, but now I'm finally strong enough to do the right thing._

But before she dials 911, she pauses. Souma deserves an apology, doesn't she? Yes, yes she does, if ever anyone needed to hear "I'm so sorry" it would be that poor sweet woman. Kendappa will make her remember, and then comes the contrition, and the goodbye. It's for Souma's own good! And it's for Kendappa's own punishment, this imprisonment in a place hardly anyone can break out of, the security in those things is so tight.

So she hits Souma's speed-dial, and over in her apartment, Souma sighs and rolls her eyes to the ceiling as her phone rings _again_. She'll never get the chance to finish watching her movie, at this rate! Sheesh, if this is another solicitation, she's going to turn her phone off for the night. But when she picks it up, her face brightens and she's so glad Kendappa called, because talking to Kendappa is fun.

Souma hastily presses the "pause" button on her remote, and greets her beloved with a cheerful, "Hello, Kendappa! How are you?"

"Souma."

Kendappa's voice is hoarse like she's been crying, and so serious Souma almost panics. What's wrong? Did something horrible happen to her? Is she at the hospital after being raped, or did she just witness a horrific car crash, or maybe something happened to her boyfriend?

"Kendappa, are you okay?" she asks as calmly and soothingly as she can, as her heart thuds in her chest.

"Oh no. No, I can never be okay again. Souma…" she sounds like she's holding back tears, "don't you remember Tenkai? Isn't any of it still in your mind?"

_Tenkai_…

That name is familiar, though Souma's never heard it before. But she can't reply to Kendappa, because again, images are whirling through her mind: a white-haired man with green eyes and a beard, grinning at her and showing her how to make an elixir; a black-haired woman with green eyes and lots of jewelry, chuckling as she shows Souma how to wrap a wound. There's a sense of parental love in these memories, and sadness, sadness too.

More scenes: leaping through the trees like a leopard, silent and practicing her ninja technique; a fantastic castle rearing to the sky, so big it must have taken generations to build; and then –

Horror. Heads hewn from bodies, blood splashing her cheek, screaming people and the stench of burning flesh. Running, fleeing through the forest, filled with a terrible sense of vengeance. Fear, thick and cloying, making it so she cannot rest, just has to run some more. Tears falling onto the forest floor, because she's the only Souma left in the entire world.

But then hope, hope and love. Kendappa, smiling at her as she wakes up in a flying castle, wondering why she's naked. Kendappa's assurance that she took her clothes off only because they were so sweaty, but don't worry, she's having them washed and Souma can have them back soon. Kendappa playing that beautiful harp, and brushing Souma's hair, and laughing with her, teasing Kisshouten even. Then a kiss, many kisses, and that longing to be with Kendappa in every way.

And then the memories start to darken, because she's on a quest to defeat the monster who killed her people, and everywhere, they're attacked. Varuna, Vahyu, the demon butterflies that stole Yasha, Aguni, _Koumokuten _even, and all the while they're getting closer to their doom. Because –

"Don't you _remember_, Souma?!" Kendappa wails, and Souma blinks and comes back to the present. "Tenkai! I was the royal musician, and Zouchouten's troops killed your tribe, and you wanted revenge on Taishakuten so badly! I saved your life and I let you go with Yasha, even though it was the last thing in the world I wanted to do!"

Souma does remember, but it's out of context. She doesn't remember much of her childhood or teenage years, or much of what happened in the years between when Kendappa saved her and she found Yasha and Ashura. Or even what happened right after she heard Kendappa playing the harp when she left, so sad and longing. It's like a puzzle, where when enough pieces are together you can see that part of the picture, but there are blank spaces too.

"I remember some of it," she says desperately. "But tell me about the rest! Please, I need to know," she begs, even as part of her can tell that she won't like what she hears.

Kendappa is sniffling now as she goes on, "You killed all the warriors sent to kill you, even Koumokuten's troops. I was there for part of that, because Tenou had brought me out there for me to play the harp for him. I saw them come, and I told you to kill all of them, and I _meant _it, because I wanted you to live. But – but the next day, I decided that I had to kill you, because it wasn't just me in my body and the other one was Jikokuten all along. I-I'm sorry, but it's true. And you five came to Zenmi, and Jikokuten f-fought you like a violent little bitch –"

"Kendappa, don't –"

"Yes! She fought you!" Kendappa screams, and Souma can hear the tears in her voice. "So many other people died, and we added to that total! You tried not to fight us, you just did defense, I tried to make her stop, but she fought you with all our strength. She won, because _you _weren't giving it your all. And – and after she stabbed you, you still called us 'my lady' –"

And that phrase, that fond title, is what opens the door in Souma's mind. Every second of that first life floods her soul, more than she remembered when she was living it. For a moment she doesn't even breathe, just stares wide-eyed at the wall, stunned at what she really is. Two lives, then, and those flashbacks were real, just like she suspected they were. And her love for Kendappa is real too. And she knows now – _knows _– that her death, the monstrous act of killing a lover, was not carried out by the harpist's hand.

"Kendappa, it's going to be okay!" she frantically assures her. "I remember it now, but we can –"

"Souma, y-you don't _deserve _an awful bitch like me," Kendappa sobs, and before Souma can protest she barrels on, "But I'm going to atone for all of it, do you hear me? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, and I promise you I'll never hurt you again! I _l-love_ you." And with that, the line goes dead.

"KENDAPPA!"

What does she mean, "atone for all of it"? Souma frantically hits redial, but Kendappa doesn't answer. In fact, she's just turned her phone off, so all Souma can do is leave a message. She knows that won't work, so she hangs up, frantic and frightened. Is Kendappa going to harm herself? Please don't let that be so, because Souma _forgives her_. She forgave her as it happened, even, and tried so hard to make her immortal, and that's not the action of a woman who holds a grudge.

She sprints towards the door, barely remembering to grab her wallet so she can get on the subway. She will not let Kendappa harm herself! It's all in the past, it doesn't matter anymore, and her love has almost _doubled_, with the full knowledge of Tenkai. If she loses Kendappa now, she'll break completely down.

As Souma runs out the door, Kendappa wipes her eyes and takes a deep breath, despite wanting to sob. She dials 119 with a steady finger, and as the phone rings once, she thinks, _The more overwrought and hysterical, the better. In fact, suicidal is the best way to go._

"119," comes the calm dispatcher's voice, and Kendappa immediately shrieks, "I have to kill myself! I have to! Because that's what I did to Souma in Tenkai, because he was stronger!" She's startled by how unbalanced she sounds, but that's a good thing.

"Deep breaths, ma'am, just talk to me, don't hang up," the dispatcher soothes, comforting and caring. "We're sending an ambulance. Just tell me where you are, okay? Deep breaths, _deeeep _breaths, it's going to be fine."

Kendappa lists her location, then launches into another hysterical "suicide" rant, babbling all about Tenkai and making sure to speak as quickly and as manically as she can. She never thought she'd be using her acting chops for this, but it's her finest performance. If the ambulance doesn't show up with a straitjacket, she'll be incredibly surprised.

And yup, they sure as hell do. She's more than happy to let them put it on her and wheel her on a gurney out to the ambulance, as neighbors stare and start filming this on their phones. Soon the media will know, not the mainstream media but the anime media, and blogs will be updated with titles like "Koto Kendappa taken to mental ward." But that's just fine, because her regular life is over, she thinks as the ambulance doors close. From now on, she's not a voice actress, she's a crazy woman.

.

A mere ten minutes after the ambulance left, Souma arrives at the apartment building at a run. Clumps of people are still standing around talking in hushed voices, and she asks one, "Sir, can you please tell me what happened here?"

"My next-door neighbor was just taken away in a straitjacket," he relates, shaking his head. "I never would've suspected she'd be one to crack. She always seemed so normal."

With a cold feeling of dread, Souma then queries, "Was it Koto Kendappa, by any chance? She's my friend, and I was just coming to visit her," she says desperately, and he sighs and replies, "Why yes, miss, it was Kendappa, I'm sorry to say. Why they took her I don't know."

Souma thanks him politely, goes over to the door to try to get in, and realizes that with no Kendappa to buzz her in or answer her door, she's , if she can't get in through the door, she has to find another way in. She nods firmly, her mind racing like that of the ninja of old, and strolls as casually as she can to the right, towards the alley. Once she's out of sight she breaks into the fastest sprint she's ever broken into, and pounds down the alley like a galloping horse.

And yes, just as she thought, the fire escape will be the perfect mode of entrance. All she has to do is force the window, and she knows for a fact that Kendappa's window is weak, she complained about it enough. Souma really, _really _hopes Kendappa didn't take her advice and buy a new lock for it.

And so Souma housebreaks – apartmentbreaks, technically. No one sees, no one hears, and she closes the window as silently as she can, prowling through the rooms like a cat. Okay, first, there's a phone there, lying on the table, and Souma picks it up and reads the call log. The most recent one is 119, but as she goes farther back, she sees Ouji Tenou's name.

Oh hell, the cute younger boyfriend. She'd almost forgotten about him.

Souma considers how much to tell him. He could either know exactly who they all are, or he could no have no idea. Or, he could be having flashbacks and visions like Souma and Kendappa had, but not be fully aware of his past life yet. Well, maybe she can make him remember, like Kendappa did for her. She's worried about his reaction, but Souma is smart, and she knows that two heads are better than one. So she'll enlist Tenou's help, and then it's up to Kendappa what happens next. Souma has no idea that he backed down in Tenkai, and so she has to pray that he won't get pushy here.

She dials the number on Kendappa's phone, and soon he answers with a desperate, "Kendappa?"

"This is a friend of Kendappa's, Tsuki Souma. I – listen, I came to visit her and the neighbors told me they took her away in a straitjacket, and –"

"Oh. My. Gods," he breathes, sounding absolutely horrified. "Listen, um, Souma… I know who you are, even though I've never met you here, and I know this is going to sound crazy to you, but we're all three of us –"

"Reincarnated gods," she interrupts in a no-nonsense tone.

She hears a shocked intake of breath, then he says eagerly, "Yes, yes we are. So you've remembered too, and so did Kendappa. In fact, I'm pretty sure it was the remembering that sent her to the hospital, because she was distraught just twenty minutes ago. Which hospital is she at?"

"I don't know, and that's why I need your help," Souma pleads, dancing around the "Kendappa said she loves me" subject. "She said she needed to 'atone,' and I don't think it'll be easy to find her, let alone talk her out of whatever she decided she needed to do. So, can you help me, please?"

"Of course! Heck, I'll come to wherever you are right now. Just tell me where, and I'll be there."

That's a relief, and Souma tells him where she is, then hangs up and stares at the wall. Should she tell him what Kendappa said? Or will that make him not want to help her? She decides to break it to him gently, once they've made some progress. She doesn't really know that much about him, just what other people said he was like, but from what she does know, he's a nice guy. Hopefully, he won't morph into a mean guy when he learns the truth.

.

Kendappa has been in the mental ward for nine days. They checked her in, they gave her a urine test, they made her change into scrubs and take off her shoes so she can't strangle herself with her shoelaces, and they had two security guards escort her up to Level Three of the psychiatric wing. It goes up to Level Six, and you get quite a spectrum of people in the wing.

One is for day treatment, people who live at home and come in for "classes"; Two is for those who are very depressed but not suicidal; Three is for people who are a danger to themselves and possibly have hallucinations; Four is for those who are a danger to others; Five is for schizophrenics in the midst of an episode who can't distinguish reality from their thoughts; and Six is for sexual predators. Who Kendappa thinks should just be shot and the legal system can be done with them, because treatment for such a thing rarely works. Security is appropriately tight for each level, and from what she sees on Three, Six probably has three guards with guns watching each rapist at all times (good, hopefully some get shot).

Some of the patients seem so normal she wonders why they're here, but others… others downright scare her. Some throw fits and necessitate restraints, others refuse to shower until they're ordered to and some not even then, still others say nothing and sit still and silent for hours. Her roommate is one of the silent ones, which suits Kendappa just fine. Antisocial is _good_,and she tries to be as sullen as possible herself.

She does not participate in any therapy groups. Why would she tell strangers she doesn't like her innermost thoughts and feelings? So she skips all groups, lies in her bed most of the day, eats her meals without talking to anyone besides the health professionals, and sits for her vitals each morning and evening with a sigh. Nothin' new to report.

She watches the blowups and the breakdowns, the crying fits and the screamed arguments, the abuse hurled at the nurses and the resulting fear from those who aren't that far gone. She sees some leave, helped and back on the right track, and she watches others throw tantrums about how _they _can't leave, after weeks and even months spent here. Well, tantrums like that are a big indicator that they're not able to handle themselves yet. Personally, she wishes certain individuals _would _go away, because they tax her patience and ruin everyone's quiet time.

She reads for entertainment, they have books here. They also have a TV and a radio, but those are in the common room and she's not going out there if she can help it. So she devours light books, since having depressing books with a bunch of mental patients is just asking for trouble.

"Kendappa?" a familiar voice breaks into her thoughts as she reads. "It's time for our meeting now."

"Okay, Dr. Makoto," she wearily agrees.

She talks to her assigned therapist, tells her the truth, because after all, she wants to be taken seriously as someone with hallucinations. Dr. Makoto, a pale, slender blonde with glasses and close-cropped hair, is a good doctor, and thus she makes Kendappa nervous. Dr. Makoto picks up on every tiny contradiction Kendappa verbalizes, and the harpist has to wonder if she truly believes her that she's hallucinating. Sometimes Kendappa thinks Dr. Makoto thinks she's just flat-out lying, and that's bad. She could kick her out, if she firmly believes Kendappa's wasting her time for a game.

"So tell me some more about Taishakuten," the psychiatrist says soothingly, as they sit in one of the private rooms. "He sounds like a horrible, terrible beast of a man."

"A beast? Not in the usual barbaric sense, you know, a big barrel-chested guy wearing animal skins and such," Kendappa says cautiously. "He was actually really vain and concerned about his pretty-boy appearance, and you'd say he was classy if he wasn't so sadistic. But he was strong, you see, so I felt I had to serve him. If I saw him now, though, I'd try to kill him for what he had me do, and how he hurt Souma."

"Yes, Souma. You always talk so much about Souma, and you become much more animated when you do. So Souma wanted to kill Taishakuten, and you told her she should come back to you, but you were all along willing to kill her?"

"Part of me was willing to kill her, the other part was working so hard to keep that from happening, for all my friends," Kendappa says seriously. "Like when I found a spy in my flying castle, I strangled him so they would be safe. When Karura wanted to kill Taishakuten, I talked her out of it, and then when she faked her death, I kept my mouth shut even though I had proof she wasn't. And then when Koumokuten came to kill them, I told Souma to kill each and every one of his soldiers, so nobody could raise the alarm. Even though the bad part of me knew all along what she was headed towards, the good part of me tried to save her, to let her live for as long as she could."

"Hmm. So you were tugged in two directions," Dr. Makoto murmurs speculatively, and Kendappa nods in frantic agreement as she replies, "Yes, ever since I was a little girl. Mostly the good self was in charge, but then as soon as I was alone with Taishakuten, the bad part – Jikokuten – took over."

They go off on a tangent about the harp/sword, and how the sword was what made the music sound so good. Kendappa tells Dr. Makoto all about how fun it was to compose and play songs, and how the only thing she liked more than that was spending time with Souma. Finally the meeting is over, and Dr. Makoto lets her go back to her room with the standard statement, "You really should try to attend some groups, because you won't get out if you don't do that."

_Excellent, _Kendappa thinks, as she mumbles her standard reply of "I'm too tired."

The meds they put her on do make her tired, so very tired. She naps an awful lot, and has a hard time concentrating sometimes. And a hard time waking up in time to get breakfast, before the trays are taken away.

But then, this afternoon, she suddenly is so bored she can't take it anymore, and when the call comes for OT (occupational therapy, which in this case means crafts), she decides that attending a craft group is better than any of the others. So she goes in, endures the introductions, and soon finds herself staring at a bead tray, because she likes jewelry and she doesn't want to make a little weaving, a small wooden box, or any other of the projects. She used to make jewelry for herself back in high school, and she remembers the basics, she thinks proudly as she stares at the three beads she randomly picked up.

Black and brown and green… yes. Those are Souma's colors, so beautiful her hair and skin and eyes, her clothes black in mourning. And if Kendappa just adds gold accents, she'll have captured everything but the whites of Souma's eyes and her perfect smile. She finds herself reaching for the bead tray before she knows what she's doing, sifting through the multicolored spheres to find a metallic golden one. Ah yes, here one is! And here's another, and another.

Soon she's made a necklace, simple but beautiful, with a pattern of gold, brown, and green accenting the black, meticulously counted and strung one by one. It's soothing, and she wants to make more, but she looks at the clock and sees that time is up in just five more minutes. And indeed, no sooner has she realized that than the OT nurse smiles, "Okay everybody, let's start cleaning up!"

Kendappa obeys a bit reluctantly, and the nurse comes around and compliments, "What a pretty necklace, Kendappa! Here, give it to me and I'll put your name on it."

What? She can't keep it? She frowns and replies, "I wanted to wear it out of here."

"Oh no, you can't have this in your room," the nurse says seriously. "You might try to strangle yourself with it, or swallow the beads. No, we'll keep it in this cupboard, and when you get discharged you can have it, okay?"

Now Kendappa is _pissed_. She wants her Souma necklace! It's something to cling to when she can never have the woman herself again, and when she was making and wearing it, she felt actually happy. She would never try to strangle herself or swallow the – no wait, she's supposedly suicidal. Dammit.

But it will hurt to have this necklace locked away from her forever, so she pleads, "I promise I won't do that! I'm really proud of it, so can't I please keep it?"

"I'm sorry, but the rules say I can't let you do that," the nurse sighs, and Kendappa now notices that everybody else is watching in avid interest. The nurse holds a hand out and says soothingly, "I promise you no one else will take it, and when you get discharged, you can take it with you. Now give it to me, okay?"

Kendappa has no choice, so she takes the necklace off with a frown, but she can feel her eyes start to narrow. Uh-oh. She deliberately opens them as wide as she can as she hands the Souma jewelry over, and as the nurse puts it in the cupboard, Kendappa starts to tremble. This is not the right time for Jikokuten to come out! She never wants her to come out again, ever, but especially not in this setting. People might die, people who haven't tried to hurt her and in many cases are trying to help her.

When she goes back to her room, she's still trembling, and exhausted to boot. Gods, these medications have side effects like she never believed were possible. She used to be almost tireless, energetic and able to get by on little sleep, but now she sleeps fourteen hours out of every day. Oh well, that makes the time go faster, she thinks hazily as she drifts off to sleep, completely ignoring the call for exercise group.

Her dream is not pleasant. She's standing in a ruined hall in Zenmi, the one she died in. Shattered pillars and floor, blood splashed everywhere, and the buzzing of flies from behind her. She doesn't want to see what that is, she doesn't want to know who lies dead at her back, she just wants to get out of here. She notices then that she's carrying her harp, and she's dressed in Lady Kendappa's clothes, down to the necklace and slave bracelet. This is definitely not a memory, because –

Sudden, vicious laughter comes from her left in her voice, and she turns with slow fear to see Jikokuten step out of the shadows, holding the bloodstained sword. Suddenly Kendappa is furious, face-to-face with her evil side, and she can't bear to look at her another second. It's too much!

"GO _AWAY!_" she screams at Jikokuten, throwing her hands out like a ward and letting the harp drop. "Go to HELL, where you belong! You messed things up enough already, I don't want you anymore! If I could cut you out of my mind I would, so I wouldn't be tainted with what I – what you – what _we_ did! _GO AWAAAYYY!_"

And miracle of miracles… she does. She disintegrates in a poof of black smoke and ashes, and Kendappa suddenly feels like a weight was lifted from her chest, one that was there for so long that she didn't even realize it existed. Jikokuten's dead now, she knows this from the bottom of her heart. Her traces will always remain in Kendappa's soul, but at least she won't ever cause trouble again.

That's a huge relief, but she does not feel exonerated, at all. Nope, she's still going to do penance, and she's not about to cooperate and try to get out.

.

Souma and Tenou are stuck.

Tenou's been asking Kendappa's work and friends where she might have gone, Souma's been going the hospital route, and neither has anything to report as they meet in Souma's apartment once more. Tired and hungry, they ordered a pizza, and now as they wait they each slump at the table. Souma is in fact crying, and Tenou's feeling a little teary-eyed himself.

"No one will talk to me," she sniffles into her hands. "Patient confidentiality. They won't even tell me if she's there or not! I _think _she's at Subaru Medical because that's the closest one to her apartment, but I can't be sure. I'm starting to fantasize about climbing the outside walls and breaking a window, just to see if she's there."

"Could you?" Tenou asks seriously, leaning forwards with great urgency. "I mean, realistically? I'd try to create a diversion if you did, back on the ground."

Souma jerks her head up and looks at him oddly, then a tiny smile moves her mouth upwards and she replies, "Well, I don't have the magic I did in Tenkai, being able to leap so far, I'd need days of studying the building and lots of expensive equipment, we'd need a really fast getaway car if she even agreed to come back, and with smartphone cameras there's no way we'd get away with it… but yes, I probably could do it. It's not a very bright idea, though."

"Well, it was just a thought," he sighs in defeat, then gets up and starts to pace. "You know, Souma, usually I don't miss Tenkai that much, but at times like this I do. All I'd have to do is ask my wife to look into the Water Mirror, and we'd be home free."

"Your… wife?" she asks hesitantly, suddenly feeling a lot more hopeful. "You married someone, then?"

"Yeah. See, I married Hanranya mostly because I had to marry _somebody_, and Zouchouten suggested her because we'd both seen the Schism of the Heavens firsthand. I mean, she was sweet, and so sad after my father started ignoring her. It wasn't a bad marriage by any means, it was actually a fairly good one, and while I didn't love her… I loved our children and grandchildren," he says fervently, his eyes burning with paternal affection.

"What were their names, and how many were there?" Souma asks softly, startled by all of this.

"There were five grandchildren and two children: Bhaanu, the younger of twins, a boy. And then the heir, his firstborn sister named Kenda. So you see," he sighs sadly, "I never truly let Kendappa go."

Souma says nothing in reply, still loath to mention Kendappa's statement of love. But she has to imagine that Tenou found out why Kendappa killed herself. But what if he thinks things are different now? What if Kendappa loved him before she remembered? Souma's gut says she didn't, but she's been wrong before. And she sincerely hopes this desperate alliance doesn't dissolve into angry rivalry.

They're dancing around the subject, it's the elephant in the room. Tenou does indeed know well what happened in Tenkai yet hopes for a better end here, Souma doesn't know how maturely he behaved and herself hopes for Kendappa's favor. It's a mark of how both are classy, good people that neither's gotten mad yet, although both have to wonder if that's coming.

Steering the subject in a different direction, Tenou goes on, "I wasn't alone in my grief, you know. I mean, Hakuryuu and Seiryuu lost their cousin Lord Ryuu, Zouchouten lost Karura, Hanranya lost all my father's interest and she lived to serve him, and then Yasha lost Kujaku to wake Ashura up. All of the survivors save probably my father were sad, immensely so. But we managed to go on."

Souma says nothing for a while, then asks, "Tenkai recovered in the end, then?"

"Yes, it did. It bore scars, and we had to build Zenmi Two, the new palace, because the first Zenmi was destroyed by Ashura. But for as long as I lived, there was no more genocide, and things were peaceful. The older people told me it wasn't like it was when Tentei ruled, but they also told me it was like night and day, the difference between my father's reign and mine."

"I'm glad," she says firmly, and with great emotion. "Tenkai wouldn't have survived another reign like Taishakuten's. I mean, a good fourth of the population died because of that man, including my family," she says bitterly, sincerely hoping Taishakuten is currently burning in Hell.

"Yes, Zouchouten said you were the last Souma," Tenou quietly agrees, then surprises her with, "He was sorry, you know. He changed. He actually was the reason I was able to go on for those first few years, and he made sure nobody else's tribe got annihilated. Well, I mean, he was ready to go to war when Hakuryuu called for another rebellion, but luckily Hakuryuu backed down. He became a support for me too."

Souma is pleased to hear all of that, and is opening her mouth to ask, "How long did you live?" when there's a knock on the door.

"Oh, the pizza's probably here," she mutters in a bit of a testy tone, standing up to go answer it. "Just a sec, I'll be right back."

When she answers the door with a sigh, she doesn't in any way expect to see what she does. But when she gets a good look at the purple-eyed and pretty delivery guy, she gasps aloud and cries, "Kujaku!"

"The one and only," Kujaku confirms as Tenou rushes over too, his jaw dropped and his eyes wide. "Here to help, here to guide you, and here to hopefully have some pizza too," he hints, jiggling the box. "I love pepperoni and mushrooms, with extra cheese."

Tenou breathes incredulously, "It's you. It is! And knowing you, you have all the answers that we need. Come in," he says urgently, downright dragging the other man inside as Souma hastily closes the door. No sense letting the neighbors hear talk of deities, genocide, and magic.

Kujaku strolls across the living room like he owns the place, chatting, "I like the plants everywhere, and the décor. Oh, pizza's on the house, I can pay for it. Now, we eat first, then we talk, because you two are in desperate need of some sustenance. And you know me, I'm always hungry," he grins with a wink, and both Souma and Tenou nod, Souma remembering Kujaku dropping in for meals in the wild, Tenou remembering him eating as much as Zouchouten at banquets.

It's sort of surreal, this meal: three reincarnated gods, one of which popped up out of nowhere and knows exactly what to do, the two others hoping to get Kendappa back, and pizza. Souma's not too hungry but Tenou's appetite is back with Kujaku's presence, and Kujaku, as expected, chows down with much enjoyment. He eats more than they do, but at least he eats it fast. Still, the other two fidget as he chews, having a hard time waiting for what they want to hear.

Kujaku finally wipes his mouth with the napkin, and says, "Okay, so. Yours truly's mission is to help people remember and get together. I've done it twice before, I'll do it here too. For example, out in Chuo-ku, there are a certain large, blue-haired man and a certain slender, white-haired lady who've also remembered, thanks to me," Kujaku brags, and Tenou lights up.

Kujaku goes on, "And they're in _love_. Engaged actually. Just thought you'd like to know that, Tenou old pal, that our good buddy Zouchouten finally has what he most wanted. Happened four months ago."

"That's _wonderful_," Tenou says fervently, then adds, "He certainly suffered enough without Karura, all those years in Tenkai."

"Boy, did he. Anyway, I knew exactly what to say and what to do, because I was born here with the knowledge of my past, and a couple special gifts too," Kujaku informs them with pride, patting himself on the back.

"Like what?" Souma and Tenou ask in unison, and he shoots her a grin.

"Okay, this is gonna probably freak you out, but I've got a sort of psychic Bhagavaana power to know anything I need to. I can't see the future, but I can see the present very well. And my psychic Bhagavaana power is telling me you're correct, Souma, and she's at Subaru Medical, Psychiatric Level Three. Three is for people who are a danger to themselves but hopefully not others, and who often have hallucinations. She's told them the truth, and they think she's hallucinating. So naturally they pumped her full of antipsychotics and antidepressants, leaving her pretty much a zombie," Kujaku finishes with a sigh, as Tenou and Souma get really worried now.

"Now… let's talk about the obvious tension between you two. Tenou, you're her boyfriend. Souma, you're her best friend, but her beloved in Tenkai." Kujaku looks at them one by one and says, "You both loved her, and that's why you're both in this place, not the Land of the Dead. The Bhagavaana don't pick favorites or choose sides, because gods and humans have to make their own choices."

Awkwardness, silence and avoided gazes. Souma has to wonder if Tenou resents her, if he wishes she didn't exist so Kendappa could love him. But what if Kendappa only likes women? She never said here or in Tenkai if she did, but it's certainly possible. And if so, Souma feels both relief for herself and sorrow for Tenou, that he loves someone who isn't even capable of loving him, here and there.

Kujaku folds his hands and goes on, "What they did was set this in motion, and task me with helping. Now, you may be interested to know that some people who committed more crimes than she did are here as well. The Bhagavaana believe in second chances… but they also believe in reaping what you sow, thus the suffering she's undergoing right now. It's really too bad you two fully _good _people are suffering because of that."

"But she wasn't all bad!" Souma bursts out. "For ninety-nine percent of her life, she was _good_, I know it!"

"Indeed. And she wasn't fully Jikokuten, even mere days before the end. She knew how Karura was alive, and she helped Zouchouten hide it. I bet Tenou remembers this," Kujaku predicts so correctly, and Tenou nods fervently.

Kujaku continues with, "Something broke in her mind the day she was revealed, and Jikokuten took over. But, and this is a huge 'but,' _she couldn't live with herself after killing Souma_, and that's why _Kendappa_ committed suicide in penance for ending your life," he says matter-of-factly to Souma.

She sniffs a bit and wipes at her eyes, saying huskily, "She apologized for it in her call, and said she had to atone for it and that I didn't deserve someone like her. But – but _damn _it all, can't we just leave it behind?" she pleads to someone who can't hear her, but Kujaku nods with a big grin on his face.

"That's _exactly _what you can do," he tells her firmly. "You can move on, because others have already moved on and more will too. That's the whole point: you get a second chance at happiness here."

"So she said you didn't deserve her?" Tenou asks, his voice sounding a little shaky, fearful of what he's going to hear. "What else did she say?"

"She told me she loved me," Souma answers, quiet and firm. "That's what she said, Tenou."

He doesn't reply for a moment, realizing that Kendappa never said she loved _him_. Not here, not in Tenkai, and she died in Tenkai because of her love for Souma. So there it is, he loses out again, no Kendappa. Maybe part of him knew this all along, ever since he awakened here, and now he also knows what he must do.

So he takes a deep breath, and says simply, "Go to her. I won't interfere."

What can Souma say to this noble surrender, this solemn giving in that has to tear at his soul? This, right here, is the epitome of Tenou: a man in love, but lacking the aggression to _make _his beloved love him in return, and with a nature that truly is what a prince should always have. He wants the best for Kendappa, he wants the best for probably everybody, and if that best hurts him, he's going to deal with it. He was, undoubtedly, the best god-king Tenkai ever had, since he had no private sins and made the world heal after Taishakuten wracked it with genocidal spasms.

So Souma tells him, honestly and fervently, "I thank you from the bottom of my heart. And I hope with all I am that you'll be all right, and find someone in the future who can give you what you deserve."

"Well, maybe if Hanranya's around, she can be that person," he sighs, sounding choked up. "We didn't _love _each other, but maybe we can here. Even if not, we worked well together and certainly _liked _each other."

Souma hugs him suddenly, tears on her cheeks from gratitude and yes, pity. For a moment he just stands there frozen, then he hugs her back, tightly and with tears of his own. He does not hate her, he could never hate her. He's jealous of her in the worst way, but she's become his friend. He'll probably ease back on contact for a while until he heals, but he fervently hopes that in time, he can be around Souma and Kendappa again, and take joy in their happiness.

When they break apart, he swipes at his tears and says, in a surprisingly steady voice, "You should go, then. Don't waste a minute, go find her. Get her out of there, because she'll go nuts for real if she's there too long, I'll bet you anything."

Souma nods, snags her purse, and is off with a grateful, "Thank you again, both of you."

Kujaku and Tenou watch her go, Kujaku with a smile, Tenou with sad eyes. Finally Kujaku claps him on the shoulder and murmurs, "That was the right thing to do, you know. I mean, I feel sorry for you, but if they're in love, there's nothing you can do."

"I know," Tenou says in a choked voice, managing to hold his tears back only with great effort. "It's just, you know, it seems like I'm forever destined to lose people. Like my birth mother… I spend so much time wondering where she is, and why she didn't want a relationship with me."

Kujaku almost tells him, "Shashi wasn't _supposed _to have given you up," but he desists. That would be too much right now, and would possibly send the poor guy into a depressive tailspin, so Kujaku decides that it's best that he stays with what he knows. If Kujaku tells him that, he'll start to obsess, and isn't it better this way, for now at least? In time the truth will come out and choices will be made, but at this point, Tenou has enough to deal with.

So Kujaku turns away, and says over his shoulder, "I've got to go. There are more I have to awaken and throw together. Duty calls, and all that."

"Good luck," the redhead calls, his voice getting stronger. "But you'll come back, right?"

Kujaku pauses and turns, and then says solemnly, "I'd certainly like to. But if Yasha's on the other side of the world, I might not be able to. But believe me when I say I'll try, buddy."

And with a wave and a whistle, the former cursed stargazer is gone.

.

Souma, armed with the information Kujaku gave her, has used all her skill to talk her way into the hospital, and there meet Dr. Makoto. Dr. Makoto seems a bit perturbed by all this, and says slowly, "You realize that I really shouldn't be talking to you without a release of information from Kendappa, but frankly Ms. Tsuki, I'm at my wit's end what to do about her. Now, you are her case manager, aren't you?"

"I'm her partner," is Souma's firm reply, and Dr. Makoto raises her eyebrows as she murmurs, "Are you. She said she's alone in the world."

"She's not," Souma pleads hard, trying to make the other woman understand. "She has me. She ran away from me because she did something in the past and thinks I shouldn't love her because of it, but I _do. _I tried to tell her that but she wouldn't listen, just shut her phone off and called that ambulance before I could get there," she laments, as always cursing herself for being too slow.

"You love her?" Dr. Makoto asks quietly. "You know her well?"

"Yes," the dark woman nods. "I know her so well it's scary, and I love her so much. Please, you have to let me see her," she begs with desperate eyes, her hands clasped and held up in front of her. "Please."

"Then tell me," the psychiatrist commands, ignoring the last part, "tell me… is she mentally ill?"

"No," Souma whispers, shaking her head now. "She's just as sane as you or me. She's punishing herself here, that's what I'm positive she's doing. But if you just let me talk to her, I'll try to convince her to stop and work things out with me, not take up your time and a bed that could be used for somebody who really needs help."

"So she's lying, then, about her supposed past life and dual personalities," Dr. Makoto says with a bit of awe. "She knew exactly what to say to make us think she's having hallucinations. I'm glad to hear this, actually, because I was starting to believe her," she admits with a self-deprecating laugh.

Souma knows just what to say too, a sad, "Oh yes, she's very good at convincing people of things. It's a talent of hers. But that's all it is, lies and persuasion. She knows very well she's not a – what, exactly, did she say about her past life?" she asks with wide-eyed curiosity, perfectly concealing her knowledge of the truth.

"Oh, that she was a goddess who served this awful Taishakuten character, and her other personality killed her beloved – your first name must be Souma," Dr. Makoto grins, looking a bit impish. At Souma's nod of assent, she goes on, "She really had an interesting story, with these two sides of herself tugging her to and fro. I wondered for a while if she was bipolar, but in the tests, we didn't see any indication of bipolar syndrome. But I'll tell you this: she was very clear that she loved you, and she beat herself up because she killed you in that story."

"Where is she?" Souma gently nudges. "May I see her, please?"

"Of course you can. And if anybody asks, you say you're her case manager, because if certain other patients find out that a loved one can talk with one patient privately and not in a common room, we'll have blowups on our hands," Dr. Makoto sighs in resignation, standing up. "You wait right here, I'll go get Kendappa."

Souma waits right there, ironically enough in the room Kendappa usually meets her psychiatrist in. Pastel colors, boring watercolors on the walls, a table bolted to the floor and chairs it would be hard to pick up and throw at somebody… yup, this is a room in a mental ward, all right.

Meanwhile, Kendappa is surprised when Dr. Makoto knocks on her door and calls, "Kendappa? There's someone important here to see you. Please come with me."

Oh, is there another therapist for her to meet? Dr. Makoto isn't here every day, so other mental health professionals often fill in. Odd, for them to come at seven at night, but oh well, time seems to have no meaning in here, to Kendappa at least. She slowly follows the doctor down the hall, and as she opens the door, Dr. Makoto says, "Take as long as you want."

At the sight of Souma Kendappa gasps, her eyes going wide and her heart rate speeding up, and part of her wants to yell, "You can't be here, I told you I was going to atone for it all!" The other part wants to throw herself into her arms, babbling something like, "Take me out of here, you beautiful goddess! Save me from this awful place, because it's worse than I imagined and I promise you, Jikokuten will never come back again."

"Souma," she whispers as if in a daze, as Dr. Makoto closes the door behind her and walks away. "Souma… how did you find me?"

"With help from Kujaku – oh wait, you have no idea who that is," Souma hastily corrects herself. "In Tenkai, Kujaku was a mysterious, powerful wanderer who seemed to know everything, and lived longer than we did to help rebuild Tenkai. Here, he was set in Tokyo to get lovers back together, and he told me where you were. So you see, Kendappa, despite what you might think, we're meant to be together."

"But how can you love someone like me?" Kendappa weakly replies, collapsing into a chair because her legs will no longer support her. "I killed you! I killed you painfully, all for a stupid reason, and I was lying to you as long as I knew you."

"No, _you _didn't kill me, Jikokuten did. Here, you're my best friend, and with no Taishakuten to make you Jikokuten –"

"I would've been a monster anyway," Kendappa protests in a sigh, making no attempt to wipe her tears away. "I mean, I drove her off now, but Jikokuten might have made herself known even if he'd never –"

"I think," Souma interrupts softly, "that you wouldn't have been a monster. I think Jikokuten was a product of what you saw and what you were _told _to do as an impressionable child."

She wipes Kendappa's tears herself and goes on, "And you fought her, Kendappa! You knew who I was, and you saved me! You knew Kisshouten wanted to help Yasha, and you helped her do so! And Lady Karura… Kujaku and Tenou said you knew full well she was alive, and you hid that. From Taishakuten himself! And even your name here – you're not Koto Jikokuten, you're Koto _Kendappa_. And you will always be my Lady Kendappa, the woman I love because _you _are a kind, loving, wonderful person," Souma firmly concludes, then before Kendappa can respond she goes in for a heartfelt kiss.

How can anyone go against a sentiment and an action like that? Kendappa throws her arms around Souma and kisses her back, her tears starting to change to tears of joy, awe even. Souma is special, so very special to forgive her all that, and Kendappa vows that from now on, she'll be worthy of that love. No more Jikokuten, no more "I only like strong people," and no more grief about what happened before, because _now _things will be all right. Souma can make them all right, and Kendappa will help her, and she'll be damned if she lets her go again.

"I love you," Kendappa tells her fervently. "I love you so much, I love you more than you can know. Souma… I never want to leave your side again, ever."

"And I love you just as much," Souma honestly replies, hugging Kendappa tightly. "I never blamed you, and you remember how I wanted to make you immortal? Why didn't you drink the blood?" she chides, stroking Kendappa's cheek. "It would've made me happy if you had. It would've given some meaning to all I went through."

"Souma, I didn't drink the blood because I didn't want to live without you," Kendappa says flatly. "Don't you think somebody who commits suicide has no desire to go on, for _eternity?_"

"I… guess. But I was operating off emotion, not logic, and I felt like if I saved you, you would be happy in time. And I didn't want to watch you die," the ninja sighs, patting Kendappa's shoulder.

Kendappa sighs too and plops herself down on Souma's lap, her arms going around her neck and her legs dangling off the sides of the chair. She buries her face in her neck, and murmurs, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you wouldn't believe it, and if we could miraculously go back to Tenkai, I would've told you everything and convinced you to run away with me, to the ends of the earth. Even if Ashura hunted us down, we would at least have had that time together."

Souma strokes her back, and whispers the comforting words, "I know you're sorry. I knew that when you told me it meant nothing to live in Tenkai without me. And for me it was the same, you know… I would have wasted away in my grief if you'd died and I'd lived."

For long moments they just hold each other, drinking in each other's presence. The clean scent of Souma's skin, the sharp hospital smell that clings to Kendappa; the gentle pressure of their arms around one another; the sight of brown skin against peach skin; the noises of heartbeats and breath; the taste, figurative but real, of love finally right where it belongs. It took too long in their minds, but really, compared to some reincarnated souls, twenty-five years apart isn't so bad. Still, everyone has their own circumstances, and Kendappa's was worse than many other people's.

Finally Souma pulls back to look Kendappa in the eye, and smiles, "I was looking all over for you, but nobody would talk to me. Really, I'm surprised Dr. Makoto let me in, but only because at first she thought I was your case manager. And Tenou was talking to all your coworkers, trying to see if –"

"Oh crap, _Tenou_," the harpist groans in dismay, smacking a hand against her forehead. "I have to break up with him, and he's going to cry, and he's going to ask –"

"He told me to go to you," Souma hastily tells her. "I never knew how _mature _he can be. He told me he wouldn't interfere in our love, and that maybe – oh, he and Kujaku told me so much about what happened in Tenkai after we died, but I'll tell you that at home, okay?"

"Boy, is that a relief," Kendappa mutters as she goes back to embracing Souma. "But it isn't really a surprise, because – I never told you this – he asked me to marry him in Tenkai, and I told him I already had someone I loved. Of course, then Jikokuten fucked it up and proclaimed that I had to kill you, but the point is, I turned him down for you. And he backed off so gracefully it was crazy, just said he hoped you'd make me happy. And now, you will," she grins, before she gives Souma a heartfelt kiss.

When they break that one, Souma smiles as she reveals, "The fans are going berserk over your absence too. They hired a scab for 'Samurai Schoolgirl Monster Harem,' but the director says if you come back soon enough, they'll give you your job back. Anyway, your fan club is all upset, and they're penning songs and drawing fanart to support you."

"Whee, they love me, they really love me!" Kendappa cries in Yoko-chan's high, peppy voice, and Souma bursts out laughing. Laughter in a mental ward… that's a rare thing.

Once they've calmed down, Souma seriously proclaims, "Okay, the thing to do now is concentrate on getting you out of here. That doctor I talked to didn't seem like she was going to have you punished for lying about being mentally ill, so maybe she can get you out earlier than usual. I don't think I have to tell you to go along with my 'She was lying about her past life' lie, do I?" she asks with a wink, and Kendappa shakes her head hard.

"Good. I guess we better go get her, huh?" Souma suggests, and Kendappa stands up as she replies, "I bet she's pretty close. Maybe she's even pressing her ear against the door."

But nope, Dr. Makoto isn't eavesdropping. Instead she's watching two other patients play a game of go, but at the sight of Kendappa she grins, "Do you two need to talk to me?"

"Yes, please."

Once inside, the doctor says firmly, "This will be touch and go for a while, and I can't just let you walk out right now. There are procedures we have to follow, and Kendappa, you'll have to participate in groups for me to authorize your release. There's just no way around it. Also, you do realize that I could very well have you arrested for this. But I won't," she smirks reassuringly, as Souma and Kendappa look stricken.

But that's the worst she says, and Kendappa enthusiastically agrees to go to every single group for as long as it takes, and she apologizes to boot. Souma leaves with great reluctance, but before she clears the first of three alarm-bearing doors, Kendappa yanks her back and gives her one more passionate kiss.

The nurse escorting Souma grins to see such a thing, and Souma strokes Kendappa's hair away from her cheek as she farewells, "I'll see you soon. I love you."

"I know you do," Kendappa responds with a grateful smile. "And that's the most awesome feeling in the whole wide world."

.

Discharge takes five days, but finally, _finally _Kendappa's dressed in clean, regular clothes, and Souma's here to bring her back to her apartment. But there's one thing Kendappa won't leave without, and so she hunts the OT nurse down to get her Souma jewelry back. The nurse smiles and congratulates her on her "amazing turnaround"; Dr. Makoto kept the lie angle quiet wherever she could.

"I'd like my necklace, please," Kendappa says politely, her fingers itching to have it. "The one I made that reminds me of my girlfriend."

The nurse smiles and says happily, "Aw, that's so sweet. Wait right here, I'll go get it for you."

Soon she brings out the envelope, and Kendappa wastes no time in opening it and taking the necklace out. She also wastes no time in fastening it around her neck, and she isn't going to take it off until she goes to bed. In fact, she decides, she's going to wear this necklace every day! And if it breaks down the line, she'll patiently restring it and wear it some more, so she'll have a little bit of Souma with her wherever she goes.

She goes back to Souma, and proudly points at her necklace as she grins, "Look what I made, Souma! I based it off you. And I'm only taking it off for bed, baths and showers, and swimming."

"I think it's beautiful," Souma chirps as a nurse hands Kendappa her bags, and Dr. Makoto approaches. "Maybe we should make one for me with your colors."

"Sounds like a lovely idea," Dr. Makoto smiles. Then she shakes Kendappa's hand, and cautions in a whisper, "Now, if you ever try something like this again, you won't be so lucky. They'll press charges, so just be happy with Souma, okay?"

"You bet your life," Kendappa replies with a huge smile, and Souma smiles just as widely. Dr. Makoto imitates them and waves, and on the way down to the elevators, Kendappa tells her woman, "She would've figured most of it out eventually, I'm sure of it. But I'm so glad you came, because I don't know what I would've done if they'd kicked me out of the mental ward and charged me with some sort of crime."

"We'll never have to know," Souma says blithely. "That's all in the past, and the future is wide-open and bright."

It seems to take forever to get to Kendappa's apartment, but when they do, she unceremoniously dumps her bags in the living room, then eagerly turns to Souma and gives her a kiss. A desperate, hungry, passionately fiery kiss, one that speaks volumes of "I love you. I need you. I'm grateful to you. I want you with me forever. And I want you in my bed, _now_."

Why wouldn't she? They never got to make love in Tenkai, though both imagined the act and longed for it. She's never had sex with anybody, woman or man, and that will make it extra special with Souma. She's not as nervous as a straight woman is, because after all, fingers inside her won't hurt as much as the male organ. She knows that for a fact because she's tried the former herself, numerous times. No, she's just filled with eager anticipation, although she has to admit she's not sure exactly how to go about doing it.

Souma is eager as well, picking up on the emotions behind Kendappa's needy kiss, and she reluctantly breaks it only to ask, "Should we head to the bedroom, my lady?"

"Yes," Kendappa agrees with much enthusiasm, then makes a small noise of surprise as Souma sweeps her into her arms bridal-style.

She grins down at Kendappa, and chuckles, "Let me be all gallant, okay? Why should men have all the fun of carrying their woman off to bed?"

"Geez, you're strong," Kendappa compliments as Souma walks towards her bedroom, and Kendappa hugs her around the neck. "That ninja strength is really something."

Souma opens the door, strides over to the bed, and gently deposits Kendappa on it like she's made of glass. No sooner has she done so than the harpist pulls her down with a kiss, and for long moments it's just lip action and hands gently stroking each other. But then something occurs to Kendappa, and she breaks the kiss with much regret.

"So… how do lesbians have sex where both of them are being pleasured?" she asks, her brow furrowed with the effort of figuring it out. "Without some sort of double-ended toy, since the idea of deep penetration makes me uncomfortable and I doubt you have something like that anyway."

"Well, there's tribadism, but it takes a little more effort. You're holding yourself up for it, after all. But what about a 69?" Souma the lesbian porn connoisseur suggests. "Since I'm bigger than you I'll be on my back, then you just climb on top of me. But we should do that only after lots of foreplay, foreplay's important. I want to be able to see your face as I explore you," she urges happily, starting to tug Kendappa's shirt upwards.

Then she joins their mouths in another kiss, savoring the taste. Kendappa tastes like mint gum – well, this part of her does, anyway. Her kisses are rather clumsy, but isn't that to be expected from a lesbian who made herself date men? But Souma is patient, and Kendappa seems to be picking it up fast, gently stroking Souma's tongue with hers, catching her lower lip between her own, and making all sorts of little "Mmmh" noises as well. And because this is Kendappa with her, the kisses are the best Souma's ever had, for all their untrained actions.

Souma soon manages to get that shirt off, to reveal a boring, plain, tan-colored bra. Why, this is unacceptable! Someone with Kendappa's personality needs sexy, playful bras, and Souma makes a mental note to get her some. Maybe not lace if it makes her itchy, but perhaps something blue, with polka dots even, those would fit.

Kendappa, as she takes Souma's shirt off, is pleasantly surprised to see sexy lingerie, which actually matches Souma's panties. The ninja's bra is black (but of course), but features lace and little bows in the middle and the tops of the cups, definitely a more attention-getting piece of underwear than Kendappa's. She unclasps it with a grin, and asks, "Do you always wear such sexy lingerie?"

"No, often I wear normal ones or sports bras, but I knew we'd be doing this so I wore this one," is Souma's serious reply, as the cups come away from her breasts.

Peaked, dusky brown nipples. Which, to Kendappa, are much more beautiful than those stupid hentai drawings of dark-skinned women with pink nipples. It looks dumb, to have the nipples lighter than the surrounding skin, and it's flat-out unnatural. But _these_ are normal, and honestly, the color is pretty close to milk chocolate. So of course she has to taste and see, right? Well, okay, she knows they won't taste like chocolate, but maybe sometime they can play around with chocolate sauce and she can say things like that then.

"Ohhh…" floats from Souma's lips as Kendappa closes her mouth over the left peak, the warm heat and soft suction so much better than her own fingers toying with them. Ooh, so this is what it feels like! It's a stunningly lovely feeling, and when Kendappa switches off and fingers the first one, it's even better.

So Souma reciprocates, except she puts her other hand between Kendappa's legs. Warm, slick, and welcoming is such a part of her body, and Souma's fingers slide in and out in time to the suction of her mouth. Kendappa moans, groans, pants and gasps for long minutes, all of the sounds pleasured and desperate. She tries to do it too but she really can't do much, not when such marvelous sensations are taking up all her concentration.

"Okay," Souma finally gasps, reluctantly parting her mouth from Kendappa's breast, "I think that's enough foreplay."

"Yeah," is Kendappa's fervent, panted response, as they get into position. "Okay Souma… here I go."

She lowers her mouth to Souma's slit, except she's not getting as much access to the whole thing as Souma is. Well, the clitoris is right there, at least, and there's enough of the rest at mouth-level for this to work, even if she couldn't use her hands. She sticks her tongue out and gently laps at the labia beside the major pleasure center, tasting the salty, savory flavor of another woman's treasure. Ooh, delicious, she thinks as Souma does the same to her, and a teeny tiny bit different from her own taste.

Soon they've gotten into a hip-thrusting rhythm, eager and uninhibited. Oh gods… yes! This is what both always wanted, this is how sex should always be: electrifying, passionate, tender, mutually giving and taking from someone you love so much, you'll go mad without them. It's a bit awkward, but Kendappa knows they'll get better at it and find more ways to do it too. For now, this works, this dance of hands and mouths and hips and moans, and it truly is more than she's ever felt before.

"I love you," she gasps out, reluctantly taking her mouth away. "Oh gods, Souma, I do. I always loved you!"

Souma doesn't reply in words, she replies with actions. For long minutes of bliss they please each other, each feeling more than they've ever felt before. And the pleasure builds, fast and inexorable, mutual and voracious, until finally Kendappa can't keep her concentration on making Souma feel good, all she can do is ride her own sensations. Souma's okay with that, more than okay actually, because to make Kendappa like this is good in a different way. _She _is doing it, no one else, and Kendappa only wants Souma to do this to her.

Two more thrusts of the tongue, and Kendappa screams in orgasmic pleasure, frantically grinding her groin against Souma's mouth and unable to comprehend anything but these sexual sensations. They're more than she's ever had before, and why wouldn't they be? She's with someone else, and humans nearly always prefer that to doing it on their own.

"SOUMAAA!" she sobs happily, finally regaining the use of words as her climax lessens, but is still present. Finally it ends (it was longer than those she's given herself too), and she collapses, panting, insensate, even drooling a little she was so consumed with bliss. _Wow_.

Then she realizes that Souma hasn't come yet, and is desperately bucking her hips but saying nothing. Why, this will not do! Kendappa goes back to pleasing her lover, a little less enthusiastically but that doesn't really matter. Souma is so turned on that any stimulation is wonderful stimulation, and soon she keens, "Kendappa … I – I'm going to –"

_You just go right ahead, then, _Kendappa thinks, pumping two fingers in and out, and no sooner has she thought that than Souma does come.

Like Kendappa her peak is so much more than she ever felt before, and she barely even realizes that she's screaming aloud. Kendappa feels proud, and loving, and aroused again just experiencing Souma's orgasm. She knows just what it feels like, after all. Then it fades, walks contentedly off into the sunset, leaving Souma supine, satiated, and sweaty.

For a while they just lie there, catching their breaths, until finally the taller woman manages, "That was… amazing. Kendappa – oh, let me hold you," she pleads, gently trying to lift her mate off.

With shaky legs and arms Kendappa levers herself up, turns around, and plops down right next to Souma, embracing her tightly as she breathes, "I never knew that making love was that good. Okay, now I see why some people become sex fiends."

"Well, being a sex fiend and enjoying lovemaking are a bit different," Souma feels the need to point out. "Lovemaking is all about the connection in addition to the sensations, but having sex with anybody you can doesn't have that bond. I mean, I'm sure it feels very good, but I find it hard to believe that it could top what just happened. That must be what married couples feel like when they have sex."

"We're _going _to get married," Kendappa says firmly, tracing an invisible ring around Souma's left ring finger. "No one will recognize it here except other same-sex couples and gay rights sympathizers, but there has to be _some _religious denomination that'll perform the ceremony. If not, we could travel to another country."

"For a nation with so much of the youth fascinated by fictional homosexuality," Souma sighs in near-disgust, "it sure doesn't treat real same-sex couples right. I mean, we don't get a single legal benefit!"

"But at least people don't come up to you on the street and start quoting the Bible, telling you that you're going to Hell and your 'choices' are hurting everyone," Kendappa mutters, recalling horror stories about America. "Or beat you, rape you, and leave you for dead like in a lot of Third-World countries. So it could be a lot better, but it could be a lot worse too."

Silence for a bit longer, then Souma confesses, "Do you know… a mere _month_ after you saved me, I fell in love with you? And finally, here we are, in bed, about to fall asleep together after so much longing."

"I always, always, _always _wanted to sleep next to you," Kendappa sighs, threading the fingers of her right hand through Souma's left. "Oh, okay, maybe not at first, but I _did _take a good long look when I took that white dress off," she grins evilly.

Souma snickers and teases good-naturedly, "Pervy harpist. I'll bet you wanted to cop a feel, huh?"

"Yeah, but I didn't. I think Mahaja – you remember Mahaja, the handmaiden with the one green eye and one blue eye? Anyway, she was giving me this knowing look as we got your dress off, but I pretended I didn't see it. I was blushing, though," Kendappa admits cheerfully, now patting Souma's thigh.

"Well, I would've been blushing right along with you, if I'd been conscious. But now, there's no more reason to be embarrassed around each other. I've seen everything you've got. And boy, it's nice," Souma praises fondly, hugging Kendappa a little tighter.

From there, they speak of little nothings, everyday attractions, hopes for the future and fears too. Kendappa decides that Renji doesn't even have to know his daughter is a lesbian and going to marry a woman, because after all, they've had no contact for almost two decades. Souma, on her end, is excited to show Kendappa to her parents, and she knows that they'll be excited too. No mention will be made of Tenkai, but their love will be plain to see. It's decided that Souma will move into this apartment, but she'll get to bring her herbs of course.

Finally sleep claims them, and they slumber in each other's arms, the way they wished to for far too long.

.

As Souma and Kendappa walk out in public the next day, holding hands and smiling at each other, Kujaku follows for a little while. Ah, how sweet it is to see love, especially after such love underwent a period of great pain. But that's the past, and this is now. Now, they are happy and Kendappa will never hurt Souma again.

_Oh, harpist, _Kujaku thinks fondly as Kendappa buys Souma a juice drink from a street vendor, _I never met you in Tenkai, but I felt like I knew you. Same goes for here, but I got into your head and I pitied you, despite the choices you made. You weren't meant to be Jikokuten, you were always meant to just be Kendappa and love Souma. But now, you defeated the part of yourself that brought both of you so much pain._

_That's all behind you now, _he thinks as they head to the light-rail, Souma's arm around Kendappa's waist and Kendappa leaning her head against Souma's shoulder. Kujaku grins, gets a little closer, and stops as they board the light-rail train at the last second. They'll sit down on this side, he knows, so he faces the windows and smiles.

And indeed, soon Souma appears in the window, glancing casually out, then seeing him and getting all excited. She grabs Kendappa and points to him, and he can see her mouthing, "That's Kujaku! That's Kujaku!"

Kendappa grins brighter than the sun, and mouths very deliberately, "Thank you!"

"You're welcome!" he cheerfully calls aloud, making passersby give him a weird look. But who cares? Souma and Kendappa are finally together for good, and that's what's most important now. Soon he'll be off to help others, but he wanted to see the two of them together before he leaves.

_Make beautiful music together, _he mentally urges, sending them a wave. They wave back, and as the train pulls away, he adds, _I know it will be a symphony._

.

.

(AN: "Bhaanu" means "prince" in Sanskrit, and "Sangiita" means "music."

That was the first detailed lesbian sex scene I've ever written. I'm a straight woman who's written yuri, oh dear. How'd I do? If any of you lesbians or bi women see something wrong, please be so kind as to help me fix it. It was kind of weird doing it, but I guess that's to be expected. I also struggled with the upcoming Yasha/Kujaku sex scenes, surprise surprise.)


	8. Captivity

**Chapter Seven: Captivity**

(Tenkai)

She's getting married, in a twisted joke of Fate. Not as Kisshouten, a woman in love and looking forward to centuries together with a man who also loves and will always protect her. But as the princess, Tentei's daughter, a prize to Taishakuten's top commander. Formerly Vaisravana but now Bishamonten, the red-headed right-hand man… his interest shocked her.

The hall they're in bears battle scars, but they've been hidden as well as possible with flowers and festoons of cloth. It's been only four days since the siege ended, after all. But Bishamonten wants his wife and Taishakuten is all too happy to humor him, so here they all are, standing in front of the new stargazer Hanranya, three-fourths through with the wedding ceremony as the court watches. Kisshouten is crying, silent but steady, and those who see her face can easily tell that.

Why wouldn't she cry? She doesn't want any of this! Her father is _dead_, his royal body thrown to the carrion birds and his noble head stuck on a pike in the courtyard, to proclaim Taishakuten's might. Tenkai's golden age is ended, her life is turned upside down, and now additional humiliation.

Bishamonten killed _twenty-six _of her father's personal guard to get to her! And he wasn't even seriously injured, just blew the door down and hustled her off, as she screamed and hit him and begged him to let her go, certain that he meant to rape her.

He didn't, which was a huge surprise, just handed her off to his own guards with an admonition of "She is not to be allowed to escape or harm herself. She is _mine_, and anyone who tries anything with her will beg for death before I'm through with him."

Small consolation, for she extrapolated what he meant by that: "_I _will be taking her virginity, not you." She was wrong in her assumption, but she fully believes that she knows the truth.

She chances a glance over at him, and he's paying rapt attention to Hanranya, his hand holding Kisshouten's in a gentle grip that will turn hard should she try to yank her hand away. His hair is put up into a massive bun instead of a long ponytail, and he's clad in the armor of the God of the Northland, since he is after all Bishamonten now. The armor is fantastic, silver and with massive shoulderguards, set with gems and gold, and polished to a mirror shine.

That armor will be coming off later, she is convinced of this. _Everything _will be coming off later, for what is a marriage if it's not consummated? The mere thought makes her shrink from him, terrifies her. She can only pray he isn't a rough man, one who will aim to hurt her like some cruel husbands will.

Months ago, she wouldn't have dreamed he'd be as cruel as he's been during the war. Betraying her father after he swore to serve him as the Snow God of the Northland, following Taishakuten's every barbaric order, killing so many people on the battlefield, and then those guards too, and now _this_. She thought he was a good man, but how wrong she was! She thought she could count on _him_, surely, when this rebellion broke out, only to learn that he'd already deserted the then-Bishamonten to join Taishakuten's rebel camp. So all those smiles in the gardens and the halls were lies, lies! Or at least, they were not the innocent expressions she thought they were.

Yes, coming up in the world gets you what you want, she thinks bitterly. She chances a glance over at the new Koumokuten, who's grinning at a gorgeous singer, one Kisshouten is willing to bet wouldn't be nearly so happy to let him court her if he wasn't the General of the Westland now. And that too makes her angry, that Lady Parvati doesn't have to accept Koumokuten if she doesn't want to, but _Kisshouten_ has no choice but to accept Bishamonten.

"…And by the powers vested in me by our illustrious god-king Taishakuten, I tell you to hold out your hands," Hanranya intones, holding the red thread of matrimony.

Kisshouten wants to yank hers away, but Bishamonten holds it up held in his, and it would do no good even if she did yank it away. So she stares straight ahead with compressed lips and lowered brows, tears still slipping down her face as the thread is wound around their conjoined hands. What a farce, what a mockery of marriage, a crying bride who doesn't want this and a groom forcing her to do it. This is not what a marriage should be! It should be like her father and mother's was, filled with love and smiles and eagerness, not bitterness and resentment before it's even begun.

But it is done. The knot is tied, the bond is made, they're spouses now. Gently he nudges her so they turn and face the hall, their hands still joined and the thread practically burning around her hand and wrist. It's all psychological, because it's made of silk, not something caustic.

Hanranya smiles serenely and proclaims, "To you, Tenkai, I present Lord General Bishamonten and his wife, Lady Kisshouten. May their union last for as long as they both should live."

Kisshouten stares out at the crowded hall, and she has one thought as it breaks into obedient applause… _I want to die._

She thought about it before, barricaded behind a door as Taishakuten's army ran amok in Zenmi. She's not stupid, in the least. She's not a warrior and she's a woman anyway, and what could a defeated woman expect from such an opponent? What could a princess expect from a conqueror who'd want to wipe out the rightful line of royalty? Surely it would be better to end it on her own terms.

But Kisshouten is one of those people who, when the chips are down, cannot bring herself to end her own life. Part of her burns to live, no matter what horrors she will endure. Part of her is still in shock, even, and cannot summon the will to fight this. It would be futile anyway, and this way she at least gets to keep her handmaidens, who are her dear friends.

So she sits through the feast, and the toasts to the new married couple, but she will not dance, he can't _make _her dance. He can't make her smile at him either – in fact, she will never smile at him again in Tenkai, ever. Three hundred years from now, she will cry for Bishamonten but she won't smile at him, and the night before he will say to Hanranya that he sacrificed her smile for Taishakuten. He did, he is yet someone else drawn into the man's spell, forgetting what's really important in his need to serve him.

The feast drags on, and on, and on. She gets herself through it by studying the various major players in court, seeing how they act in this new paradigm of power. Lord Ryuu is subdued, but her two young nephews Hakuryuu and Seiryuu are boisterous, and for a while Kisshouten is content to just watch them. Then she moves on to the new Zouchouten, who's talking to Lord Karura and his wife Paksha animatedly. Then to Shashi, queen now, smiling and obviously gloating over her newfound power, going so far as to pat the bulge of her belly that cemented her position.

And then Kisshouten's eye falls on Lord Karura's daughter, young Susita, who is looking at her with a compassionate expression on her face as her Garuda eats a scrap of meat. Their gazes lock, and Susita mouths, "I'm so sorry," with sad eyes.

Does she even know what a wedding night entails? Maybe she does and maybe she doesn't, but this _means _something, that _someone _has the courage to offer Kisshouten sympathy and make it clear that she does not approve. So the demoted princess nods with tears in her eyes again, and mouths back, "Thank you, so much."

Susita sends her a sad smile, then her mother touches her shoulder and she turns her attention to her. Kisshouten sighs and stares down at her plate, the food she picked at, and takes a big swallow of wine. Maybe if she gets drunk, being raped won't hurt as much.

But she doesn't have time to get drunk, only halfway there, because soon Bishamonten stands up and says to Taishakuten, "With your permission, we would like to leave now, sire."

Taishakuten sends him a knowing little smile, though what he knows is not what Kisshouten suspects. The god-king replies, "Oh yes, go right ahead, Bishamonten. You've earned today, after all. You are dismissed," he says grandly, waving a long-nailed hand at the door.

Bishamonten gently takes hold of his wife's arm, pulling her out of her chair and off the dais as she has sudden visions of punching him in the nose, picking up her skirts, and running down the hallway in the opposite direction. But it would do no good, she'd be caught before she reached the door, and then he might just throw her over his shoulder and haul her back. And if Taishakuten decided she needed to be punished – well, she can't stand to think of what that terrible, sadistic monster would do to her, maybe even right in front of everybody.

So she trudges down the hallway, slower and slower, until Bishamonten tugs a little harder and makes her speed up. He does not speak to her and she does not speak to him, and that's foolish on his part, because maybe if he explained a few things their lives would be much happier than they're going to be. But no, nothing passes his lips but his breath, and soon they are in sight of the doors to his bedchamber.

_Don't pick me up and carry me over the threshold, like a loving bridegroom and a happy bride, _she pleads in her mind as they draw ever closer. _Not when you're about to force yourself on me, not when you helped kill my father, not when you gave me no choice in marrying you._

But he doesn't, just holds the door open with a polite, "After you."

"Thank you _so _much," she says with all the sarcastic bite she can as she passes him, and she doesn't just mean for the door. He knows it, and she misses the hurt expression on his face, because she will not deign to look at him if she doesn't have to.

_So fine, rape me, _she thinks as he closes the door behind him. _I can't hope to fight you off, and no one will come if I scream for help. You can take what you want, you selfish, cruel, evil bastard, because you won, didn't you? You don't care that Father died, you don't care how much this hurts me, all you care about is getting what you want. So get it over with._

She stops many feet from the bed, because she can't make herself walk over to it. She tries not to face him, but he circles around with a soft, "Just look at me. Please, just that."

She will not, in fact closing her eyes and turning her head to the side, saying in a trembling voice, "No. You can throw me to the bed, you can force yourself on me, but you can't make me look at you! I'll keep my eyes shut throughout the whole –"

"I promise you that I will not harm you," Bishamonten firmly tells Kisshouten. "You have my word that I will never force myself upon you, ever."

Relief is a nearly palpable, cooling feeling to damp down the hot panic. So no wedding-night rape, no consummation of this sham of a marriage, and it doesn't even enter her head then to wonder why this is. No, she does not ponder why the man who killed so many people shows the wife he was set on having mercy, and had she known, she would have become angry. As it is, she nods fervently and finally looks at him, and her voice cracks as she replies, "Good."

His face changes then, suddenly becoming intense, half-lidded eyes and a faint flush on his cheeks, a downright hungry expression on it as he whispers, "But should you ever change your mind and want me, I promise I will –"

"No," she says coldly, disgustedly, and it's like a shutter came down on his face now.

His eyes become nearly lifeless, shining black but dully cold, and his mouth turns down into a thin line. He looks almost like a statue, a man with no feelings, beautiful but with no emotional capability. He turns away without a word, his back ramrod-straight and his shoulders squared, and walks off silent save for the clink of his armor, the click of his boots against the floor, and the soft swishing noise of his cape.

When the door closes behind him, she collapses onto the bed with a whoosh of relief, trembling and pale-faced. God-king, she dodged an arrow here. She still hates this marriage, and if she never sees him again she'll be glad, and her life is still changed very much for the worse, but things could have been so much more awful. So there's a bit of gratitude here, because she fully expected that she'd be raped tonight, any other possible times for centuries on end, and made to bear children whose brains she would rather bash out than be forced to mother. But no, he's leaving her alone.

So she takes off her fancy wedding jewelry by herself, struggling a bit with no handmaidens to help her, and lets it drop to the floor because she doesn't want it. She takes off her wedding gown too, and same thing. Then, nude save for her undergarments, she slips between the sheets, pulls them over her head, and begins to cry once more.

The horrible irony of it? She'd wanted Bishamonten as well, before this rebellion, before seeing her father's head held aloft by Taishakuten, before this forced marriage that shames her in front of the world. And no one helped her! Not a _single_ woman or man gave voice to a protest.

Not Lady Kendappa, her friend. Not Lord Ryuu, the strong Guardian Warrior who once smiled, "Princess Kisshouten, I would happily lay down my life for you." Not Lord Souma, or Lord Karura, or anyone. She knows why, but that doesn't make it any easier to bear. It's still a betrayal, from every side, and the only one besides Arjuna who seems to be truly upset about it is poor Kuyou, imprisoned in the Water Jail. No one did anything to help _her_, either.

Well, this is Kisshouten's life now. No more love for Bishamonten, no more freedom to live her own life, Taishakuten in charge and the rest of the world bowing down to him. But if at any time there is a rebellion against Taishakuten, she will join it. She will do what she can to bring that monster, and his lesser monster, down. It no longer matters what she used to feel, because clearly Bishamonten doesn't love her!

No… she was a fool before, but she won't make that mistake again, she vows in the darkness.

.

(Two hundred and ninety-seven years later)

Tenou likes books, because books are an escape.

In books, your father doesn't give the order to massacre people, or torture them to death for fun. In books, your mother isn't scheming to take control, he can see it even if no one else can. In books, people like you for yourself, not just because you're the crown prince. And in books, good always wins in the end. Maybe there's been a terrible price paid and the world will never fully recover from evil, but there is at least that triumph of the light over the dark.

He's reading on a bench in a sunny corridor, as birds fly past the windows because he's over half a mile up in the air, Zenmi is so big. The breeze blows his hair around, and he absentmindedly tucks a red strand behind his ear, so it won't get in his face anymore. His hair is shorter than it used to be, back when he was two hundred and ten, or fifteen in human years. Now he's seventeen in human years, and darn it if he hasn't grown into an exceedingly handsome young man.

He's also an exceedingly _nice _young man, despite the odds of genetics. He hates watching people suffer – but unfortunately he is, sadly, a very weak young man too, in terms of strength of personality. Oh, he can cross swords with the great Four Gods and fight any one of them to a standstill, but he can't even stand up to his mother on little things, let alone his father on big things. So he despairs at all the slaughter, but does very little about it.

Death rules Tenkai now, Taishakuten's second right-hand man. Ever since the first charge of the Holy War, many have died each year, and the total is in the hundred thousands by now, so many tribes annihilated. The Ashuras were the very first, fighting to the last man (actually the last woman), and now, Tenou believes, they are extinct like so many others.

He is aware that he had an Ashura twin, but unaware that his twin still lives, slumbering in Mahyah Forest. Tenou thinks that the unnamed baby was killed, as does everybody else. He wishes he hadn't been, but he knows his mother, and she'll do anything to advance her interests. He loves her, very much so, but he's aware of what she is. He hopes she loves him in return, but he can never actually be sure. Shashi is a hard woman to read even to someone who's known her all his life, and she is an excellent actress, the best he's ever seen.

He sighs, closing his book, because thoughts like that are too distracting. He lays it on the bench and moves over to the window, looking down at the shimmering lake and causeways below the castle. It's a pretty lake, made of not water but mahyah, and it hides something powerful, something he's never seen with his own eyes.

Ashura Castle is still down there, right below Zenmi like a curved mirror image, and he has the depressing thought that the bodies of the Ashura tribespeople rotted away for years, because no one else could get through that portal without an Ashura accompanying them. So of course, once he gained Zenmi, Taishakuten took Shashi down as the priestess, and let his army go through to finish the job he began once he'd killed Lord Ashura.

Tenou sighs again, and forces his attention up to the sky. He likes the sky, which is why he's so glad he has his winged horse, Tenma. He loves Tenma, he's such a nice animal in addition to being useful. And when Tenou's on his back, soaring through the air, it's like what he left behind on the ground isn't real, for as long as the ride lasts. Well, until he flies over a ruined city, then it all comes crashing back.

_I don't want things to be like this forever, _he thinks sadly. _I want to change things when I'm god-king, even if Mother wants them to stay the same. When my father dies, I want to rebuild Tenkai and make things better for everyone, from the rich and powerful to the poor and powerless. But… sometimes I think Father will never die, that his will and lust for power is too powerful to surrender to death. Kendappa would say he's too strong to give up for something little like that._

Ah, Kendappa… now here come some happy thoughts.

Ever since he happened upon her years ago, drawn by her beautiful music, Tenou has loved the royal musician. She is kind, she is funny, she is helpful, and she is loving, he can tell that by the way she treats her friends. She doesn't look at him as the prince, she just looks at him as Tenou. Oh sure, Zouchouten sort of does that, and so does Kisshouten, and Lady Karura, while a bit aloof, seems to genuinely like him too, but Kendappa's the one who really doesn't care about his station at all.

He's sitting there, smiling like a buffoon as he thinks of Kendappa, when suddenly he hears soft footsteps and a quiet, well-bred, "Hello there, Prince Tenou. I'm sorry, am I disturbing you?"

He looks over to Kisshouten, and hastily assures her, "No no, Lady Kisshouten, you aren't disturbing me at all," to which he receives a small but genuine smile.

She doesn't smile very often, and when she does, it's often tinged with sadness. What reason does she have to smile? The utopia of Tenkai has become the killing fields of Tenkai, her beloved father is gone, she's in a marriage she hates, and she has to pretend she doesn't want Taishakuten to burn in Hell. If she wants to live, and she does want to live, she has to act as if she is but an ornament, which is really all Taishakuten sees her as. Well, that and leverage.

But sometimes she smiles at her friends: Kendappa, Souma, Karura, Yasha, her handmaidens, and Tenou. She'd been prepared to hate him when he was born, as the son of Taishakuten and Shashi, but before long she realized that their child was nothing like either of them. But probably only because the nursemaids were the ones who really raised him, Shashi having no patience for dealing with a crying child, and Taishakuten having no interest in his heir at all. Odd indeed, but it's true.

_I feel so sorry for you, _she thinks as they smile at each other some more. _You poor, dear, gentle thing, with a bloodthirsty father who ignores you and an arrogant mother who uses you as leverage. Add to that the way you so desperately want Kendappa, but she seems to be completely ignorant of that fact._

"Kisshouten, I was reading the book you recommended," he says pleasantly, holding it up. "I really like it, it's very good."

"I'm glad you enjoy it. But I think you enjoy every book," she tells him gently, and he nods and replies, "That's true. Books are like friends, to me. I get lost in them so easily, it's like when I hear Kendappa play the harp… I kind of sink into a trance state of heightened awareness for what I'm focusing on, and everything else fades away."

"Ah yes, I know that feeling. Books really can be friends where you have few other ones," she says matter-of-factly, and he nods fervently.

He wonders, then, if she felt the same way he did growing up, with everybody wanting to ingratiate themselves with her and make her like them, as the heir. He wants to ask, but that might be construed as rude, prying into her happier days without an invitation.

She crosses to him and looks out the window at his side, sending a sidelong glance at him under her lashes. It's different to be taller than a man, but Tenou is still young and she is quite tall for a woman. The only other woman she knows of at her level is that nutty Fire God Aguni, and what a contrast she is to Kisshouten. Aguni wears sexy clothes and pursues any man she can very blatantly, but Kisshouten wears long dresses that cover her from her neck to her feet. And she tries to stay away from men who might want her, Bishamonten especially, no matter that he has kept his promise to never harm her.

"Tenou," she says slowly, "do you sometimes wish – you must never tell anyone I asked you this – do you sometimes wish that we could all be in a different world, one where certain people are not in power and certain relationships are not in place?"

Tenou knows exactly what she's talking about, and softly replies, "I do wish that, for you in addition to me. But does wishing get us anywhere? There's nothing we can do to change this world, after all."

_Perhaps… or is it that there is nothing you will do? _she thinks, but without much judgment.

After all, she hasn't done much either, save shelter Souma. No one else close to her has been threatened, and so she's had little opportunity to join a rebellion she thinks would have a chance of succeeding. Every time someone defies Taishakuten she hopes they win, but every time she knows they will fail.

She nods slowly and murmurs, "Yes, you and I are pretty much powerless, aren't we? But we could both be dead, me from the war and you from a thousand infant and childhood dangers. I seem to recall your fall into Mahyah Lake when you were a toddler."

"Oh, sure, bring that up," he says with mock offense, wringing another smile from her. He smiles back and replies, "I don't remember any of it, of course, but people have told me about it so much that I know exactly what happened. I was just lucky Lord Ryuu was passing by, or else I might have drowned."

_And for that, Mother had the handmaidens who were watching me executed._

"I think the funniest part was the way you were all excited about it, and your first words after she brought you up were, 'I see fishy!' And it was actually Rago," Kisshouten chuckles, and Tenou chuckles along, then replies, "Well, you know me, I've always liked animals. They can be wonderful friends too."

Ah, Rago, the Guardian Beast of the Ashuras. Summoned by Shashi to help her escape, he stayed loyal to her as the priestess, when all the other Ashuras had been wiped out. He still lives down in the lake, guarding an empty castle, eating what he can catch and responding to Shashi when she calls him for old times' sake. Taishakuten wants him killed, but Shashi always persuades him to let her keep her "pet." After all, Rago will fight for her and no one else, and he is a powerful being. He even sensed Shashi's blood in Tenou, and thus had been about to bring him back up before Lord Ryuu jumped in and did that herself, fearful that Rago was about to eat him.

Tenou and Kisshouten discuss the great beast for a while, until Kisshouten changes the subject with, "Your birthday is coming up. Two hundred and ninety-seven, if I recall correctly. Soon you'll be an adult, Prince Tenou. Won't that be nice? You can choose a wife and everything," she says guilelessly, but he colors and avoids her eyes.

Heh. Souma has told Kisshouten that Tenou is sweet on Kendappa, and the more Kisshouten watches him, the more she's convinced it's true. Whether Kendappa feels anything in return is another matter, but Kisshouten hopes that she just hasn't realized her love for him yet. She's fond of him, and the rightful ruler fervently wants both her friends to be happy, not to mention that Kendappa would make a fine queen once Tenou is god-king.

Before Tenou has to deal with more talk about choosing a wife, confident, steady footsteps can be heard coming closer, and they both turn to see Lady Karura striding towards them with Garuda on her shoulder. She is a beautiful, strong woman, truly everything a female Guardian Warrior should be, and Kisshouten is more than happy to greet her with, "Hello, Lady Karura. How are you this fine day?"

"I am well, thank you. But General Bishamonten is coming this way," Karura says grimly, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. "I know you want to avoid him whenever possible."

"Indeed I do," Kisshouten mutters, then inclines her head to the teenager with a polite, "Please excuse me, Prince Tenou. Forgive me for leaving so suddenly."

"No, it's okay," he hastily replies, even though he does feel let down.

But he knows well why she does this, and honestly, maybe he'd have done the same thing in her shoes. She practically glides off, classy but hurried, and he suddenly has the thought that Bishamonten sees her back more than her face. But doesn't he deserve it? Didn't he rape her? He had to have done that, right? Surely so, on their wedding night at least.

Tenou watches Kisshouten's retreating back, her wavy black hair dragging on the floor, and he too sadly thinks, _I feel so sorry for you…_

_._

(Three years later)

He could not save his mother. _Their _mother.

The Schism of the Heavens has started, and Ashura came to destroy Shashi, and anyone he can. Shashi is dead, impaled through the chest and with her seal ripped from her forehead. Ashura let her drop like she was nothing, as Tenou screamed with blood on his face, injured by his twin of course.

What happened to him? When Tenou saw him not two days ago he was a sad child, with a longing look on his face and no demonic aura or lust for blood. He was fighting Koumokuten's soldiers yes, but he wasn't _enjoying _it! And here… god-king, he loves to hurt people. He even killed his friend who came to look for him, having grown to an adult and thus even more powerful. And he slashed Tenou's arm and slaughtered a couple handmaidens as he left, but luckily most are still alive.

But for how long?

Tenou swipes a tear from his eye with his good arm, as the handmaidens bandage the injured one with single-minded determination. It's as if they're resolute on saving him because they were so helpless to save Shashi and Ryuu, but he can see hysteria being held back, and why not? Ashura promised to destroy the world, after all, starting with all the denizens of Zenmi. And no one can hope to stop him.

Tenou doesn't want to leave his mother's body lying here, so undignified and bloody, but what else can he do? He can't hope to carry her, and she would want her son to live a little while longer, wouldn't she? Yes, she would, because despite everything else she did, Shashi did love Tenou in her own way. He feels so ashamed that he couldn't protect her, but really, what could he have hoped to do against –?

"Prince Tenou, look!" a maidservant cries, pointing behind him.

Terrified that Ashura might have come back to kill him after all, he whips around so fast he practically hurts himself. But no, not that terrible monster of a twin: Zouchouten, half his right arm gone, bloodied and wearied and stumbling to his knees as Tenou gasps at the sight of him.

Tenou doesn't even think on it. He pulls himself away from the women bandaging his arm and runs to his friend, helping him get up. Zouchouten raises an ashen face to him and says, in a voice thick with pain, "We have to run, now. Everyone, get out of this castle!"

"Ashura?" his brother squeaks, and Zouchouten growls, "Ashura. He went down to Ashura Castle, and when he comes back up, that's the end of Zenmi. Come, Prince Tenou, we have to go, right now!" he insists, starting to trot away and downright dragging Tenou along. The General of the Southland glances at Shashi and Ryuu with a grim twist to his mouth, but says nothing because he already knew they were dead.

"Sir, let us dress your wound at least!" a handmaiden pleads, already tearing at her skirt. Zouchouten pauses, looks down at his bleeding arm as if he's forgotten about it, then decides, "All right, but make it fast. Do it as we walk, if you can."

"Yes, General Zouchouten."

"So what happened back there?" Tenou queries as cloth is wrapped around the stump of Zouchouten's lower arm. "Who else died?" Because someone had to have died, there's just no way they didn't.

"Bishamonten: killed by Yasha. Kisshouten: killed by your father once Bishamonten could no longer protect her, only to be cruel because she was no threat to him at all. A woman named Souma: killed by Lady Kendappa. Lady Kendappa: dead by her own hand in penance for killing Souma, which makes me wonder why she did it in the first place," Zouchouten mutters in what sounds like disgust, as Tenou feels grief far greater than that for Shashi.

"And Lady Karura?" he asks quietly, his heart in pieces and his vision blurred by tears. But he knows full well what Karura means to Zouchouten, and he prays that she at least is alive.

The older man closes his eyes, and says dully, "The first to go, my prince. She's completely gone, not even a body left. Just feathers."

Oh. Then Zouchouten and Tenou now share a painful kinship, that of a man whose love died today. Tenou has a good idea who killed her, given her earlier attempt on his father's life, and he's completely correct. He's not going to ask Zouchouten about that now, though, because that would merely salt the wound. What Zouchouten will do if Taishakuten survives is anyone's guess, but Tenou honestly doesn't expect _anyone _to survive, not even if they make it out of Zenmi.

But… they do make it out, in fact to a far cliff. They pick up Hanranya halfway to the gates – literally, Tenou helps Zouchouten heft her onto his shoulder, because she collapsed and was unconscious. When she wakes, she screams for Taishakuten and attempts to kill herself, but Zouchouten's seen enough death today, and he yanks the knife from her hands. They watch Zenmi, they and everyone else who made it out, and suddenly – the Ashura growths stop writhing, the earth stops shaking, the psychic waves stop reverberating.

It's over. Ashura's been negated, how they don't know, but he has been. So the world didn't end after all… but so many people's lives did, or were changed for the worse.

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(One hundred years later)

Taishakuten died two weeks ago, but for all that changes Tenkai and Tenou himself irreversibly, the redhead feels more grief at the other death that day: Kujaku's, the mysterious stargazer who never did explain his role in things, but Yasha vouched for him and so Tenou and Zouchouten trusted him. He became a valued friend, giving good advice and making them smile throughout the dark days immediately after the destruction of the first Zenmi. For him to have committed suicide to bring Ashura back makes Tenou feel depressed. Honestly, he'd much rather have Kujaku here than Ashura, especially since Ashura and Yasha left, where to he has no idea.

He didn't have much time to grieve Kujaku, for his coronation was afoot. Now he is god-king, after having ruled in practice for the past hundred years, since Taishakuten withdrew completely from the public eye. In that time Tenou matured, learned what to do and what not to do, and his proto-reign met with no more bloodshed. And there is one more thing he did that moved him from boy to man.

He is married now, has been for a while, with two children. His wife is someone he never would have chosen himself, but they get along very well for all there is no romantic love. Hanranya will make a good queen, she was already a good princess. They are friends, and Zouchouten suggested her as Tenou's bride for the facts that she knows exactly what he went through that day, and she was depressed with Taishakuten ignoring her. Still, she grieves far more than the rest of Tenkai for the dead Thunder God, for all she's borne his two grandchildren.

_I don't blame you, _Tenou thinks as he walks alone down the hallways of the royal mausoleum, bearing a wreath of flowers. _He was the one you loved, as I still love Kendappa. But we like each other, and the children we both truly love._

The mausoleum is cool and still, all white marble carved into elaborate shapes, holding the remains of god-kings, god-queens, prince consorts, queens, royal children, Four Gods, Lord and Lady Ashuras, and stargazers too, for as far back as the creation of Tenkai. This building is about two miles from the first Zenmi, three from Zenmi Two, and it frankly makes Tenou a little uncomfortable. He's okay with death, but this place is so cold, with all the sarcophagi bearing idealized likenesses of the people they contain, none of them smiling, just lying in repose. Only the worthy may enter this building, and Tenou would honestly rather be interred in the ground somewhere sunny, where flowers could grow and anyone can come visit him.

But oh well. Once he's dead, he won't care what happens to his mortal shell.

He reaches the most recent hall, sighing at the familiar faces in marble. Shashi is first, then immediately after her Kisshouten, and Bishamonten right after his wife. For some reason Bishamonten's graven image catches Tenou's eye, and he stares at the elegant face, stern and unsmiling, which rather fits what Tenou knew of him. Or at least, what he knew of him when he was alive.

Taishakuten's son has mixed feelings about Bishamonten. He was what many would've called an uncaring man, obediently slaughtering dissenting tribes and watching everyone. Loyal to a fault, because from what Zouchouten said, Taishakuten mocked him when he was dead with Kisshouten next to him. They were buried separately, two marble sarcophagi next to each other but still apart. But Zouchouten wanted them interred together, companions in death that they were not in life.

"By the end she loved him," the General of the Southland pleaded.

But Taishakuten shook his head and ordered separate burials, denying his closest confidant the thing he would have wanted, after dying for him no less. That was Taishakuten, who didn't even care about the one man who would've kept silent through torture for him, who sacrificed Kisshouten's happiness to loyally serve his god-king. No, even Bishamonten was but another chess piece, one who could be laughed at in his pain and cheated out of his bargain when he could no longer shield his beloved wife. That action, that murder of Kisshouten, summed Taishakuten up in a way nothing else ever could: psychopath.

But he's gone now, Tenou reminds himself. He can't come back from the dead and hurt any more people. Tenou thinks that his father is justifiably in Hell, most likely with Bishamonten and Koumokuten, and all of Koumokuten's Five Gods of the Westland too. Kendappa's probably there as well, he thinks with a defeated sigh, but there's nothing he can do about it.

He looks back to Kisshouten, feeling sad again, and wonders what went through her mind for three hundred years, and the day she died. What made her avoid the husband who loved but hurt her and that she loved too, and what made her suddenly decide to risk her life to hold him as he lay dying? Such a contrast, it's almost inconceivable.

"I don't understand it," Tenou tells her image. "I never would have guessed that you loved him, because you avoided him and helped Yasha in his mission to kill him. But… I guess we all deal with a broken heart in different ways. Maybe you were just so full of despair and thinking he didn't love you, and you were so angry at him for what he did, you acted like that as a defense mechanism. You wouldn't get hurt even more that way, is maybe what you thought. I don't know, Kisshouten, but I hope you two are happy together in the afterlife."

He plucks a blossom from the wreath and lays it on her statue's breast, then does the same for Shashi. And then, because it would bother him if he didn't, he gives one to Bishamonten too. There, the mother, the friend, and the friend's beloved, all honored again in a small way.

He bows to the three sarcophagi, then continues to the newest one, newer even than Taishakuten's, which he passes by with no glance and no flower. No, this latest coffin holds the broken body of someone he loved so dearly as a friend, someone who propped him up through the difficult years and mentored him all the way through. Someone who for a hundred years wished he were dead but lived to make sure Taishakuten couldn't kill anyone else, and who, after Tenou's coronation, walked off a ledge and died with a smile on his face, hoping to see Karura again.

_Zouchouten, _the new god-king tells him in his mind, laying the wreath of flowers on the sarcophagus, _thank you. You were the one friend I had left, the one person who knew what it was like to lose the person you loved, never getting the chance to show them what we felt. And I'll miss you terribly… but I've become the man I need to be, with your help. I won't let Tenkai bleed again, like it did under my father._

He steps back, bowing his head, then sighs and holds it high. Another loss, but the circle of life, as Zouchouten said a mere two weeks ago, goes on.

.

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(AN: Forced marriages are awful things – and yes, they _are _a form of domestic abuse even if no sex is involved – so I don't know why CLAMP suddenly decided it was angstily romantic. Maybe if they'd given us some foreshadowing, but nope, Kisshouten avoids Bishamonten and helps people who want to kill him, and he never gives any indication of even slight affection before Volume Nine. They never even _speak _that we see before their death scene! Silly, and leading me to believe that actual love was an idea that came to CLAMP very late in production. Just like most of the ending, it's pretty clear.

"Susita" means "pure white" in Sanskrit, and since CLAMP never told us Karura's birth name, I had to pick one myself that fit.

Also, how dumb was it that we see Tenou being a badass on the sparring grounds, then he's completely helpless when it comes to protecting Mommy? Why didn't he at least lob some sort of magical attack at Ashura that was meant to knock him out? Such stupidity. Tenou's useless in canon, I hate to say it but he is. So it was a relief to write him becoming useful and actually growing a backbone in "Four Feathers," and here too.

Please review.)


	9. Edge of Seventeen

**Chapter Eight: Edge of Seventeen**

(AN: This chapter contains the first female-self pleasure lemon I've written. Just know what to expect.)

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(Nakano-ku, Tokyo, in late November 2011)

The lightrail train zips on its way, the scenery flashing by in a lightning-fast succession of concrete walls, signs, buildings, pigeon nests, and graffiti, because vandals seem to take pride in risking their lives to wreck property that isn't theirs. The car the lady is in is a women-only car, since sexual harassment is common in the regular cars. She's been groped before, and she hated it, but at least she raised a fuss so the other passengers came to her rescue.

Adeyaka Kisshouten is thus always alert on public transportation, though she might seem to be half-asleep, with her eyes half-shut as she listens to her iPod. It holds a rather eclectic mix, some of it songs you wouldn't expect a thirty-seven-year-old concert pianist to like. Most of it is in Japanese, but a hefty percentage is in English.

She's very fluent in English, so much so that Americans think she's one of them. This shouldn't be such a surprise, as she spent her college years in the U.S., California to be precise. She still keeps in touch with numerous old friends, so she keeps her hand in with English, and it's so nice to be able to understandwhat the American (and Canadian, British, and Australian) singers are saying when their songs are played here. Not everyone does, but good music can be appreciated even if you don't know the words.

And right now, in her earbuds, Stevie Nicks is singing about being a cougar.

Ah, "Edge of Seventeen." Kisshouten loves this song, although she used to be rather ashamed that she does. After all, older women and younger men is still seen as a bad thing, never mind that older men and younger women is seen as perfectly acceptable. Oh, double standards… they'll never fully go away, and they certainly won't decline soon in a misogynistic culture like Japan. Then again, a lot of America is still very, very sexist, both men and women, and the farther into the Bible Belt or inner city you get, the worse it is.

Oh well. It's not like she'll ever be dealing with that herself, right? Right.

The song ends and the next one is a New Classical piano piece, one of her favorites. No, this rendition of it isn't one of hers, since she never puts her own playing on her iPod. She hears it enough. She's also a composer, though she's not quite as successful with that as she is playing others' work. But she certainly makes enough money to have a very nice house, and there is a core group of devoted fans who buy everything she puts out, CD-wise. Hopefully, after today's event as Kaminari University, she'll pique some more people's curiosities.

She's here to give a concert at her alma mater. After all, a successful pianist who started out just like the kids in Music 101 is inspiring, and she's been doing this for five years now. Professor Ito was her mentor, and it's always good to see him again, so she's smiling as the lightrail stops just outside the front arch, which is a lovely piece of architecture. It's almost European-style, corbelled and very large, and it's a landmark that most anyone in Nakano-ku can recognize.

She strolls beneath it, purse strap in hand, and realizes that classes must have let out just a little while ago. So many chattering, fresh-faced students, and you can always tell who has a class to get to and who doesn't, just by the speed they –

"Whoa!"

"Watch it!"

The two voices, and the accompanying sound of someone falling, make her turn quickly. A red-haired young man collects a pile of books with an embarrassed expression on his face, as a frowning jock rubs his elbow and walks away.

"Sorry!" the redhead calls after him, his face red too and his tone sheepish. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

Kisshouten immediately bends down and helps him gather the books, smiling slightly at one of the titles. "Ah, Their Eyes Were Watching God," she says pleasantly, handing it to him. "An American classic."

"Thanks," he sighs bit shamefacedly, then looks up at her. His eyes widen and his mouth drops open, and then he looks almost giddy before he cries, "Kisshouten! Oh, wow! I didn't know _you _were here too! Is Bishamonten with you?" he asks fervently, like this is really important.

She frowns a bit now as she tells him, "I'm sorry, I've never met anyone named Bishamonten. But _we_ must have met, since you recognize me. I'm sorry to say that unfortunately I don't recognize you, Mr…?" She trails off, waiting for his name to jog her memory.

"Ouji Tenou," he supplies, sounding rather sad. Then he brightens up and lies with a straight face, "You used to live next to my cousin. You made quite an impression on me, always being such a lady."

She's a gullible lady, because she smiles in relief and replies, "Ah, you must mean Hatsuto. No wonder I don't remember you, I moved away from that house ten years ago. But how nice to see you again. Is Hatsuto well? I know how prone he was to illness."

Tenou, feeling rather guilty but also desperate to continue this acquaintance, calls on all the acting powers he learned as god-king and chatters, "Oh, he's all right, but as you said he's prone to illness. His wife takes good care of him, though. Her name is Wakaba, and she's very good for him. Anyway, Kisshouten – I'm sorry, I've forgotten your family name," he says apologetically, as well he should because you rarely address a Japanese person you don't know well by their given name.

But she graciously ignores this faux pas, and replies with a warm smile, "My family name is Adeyaka, Mr. Ouji. Please, will you tell Hatsuto I'm pleased to hear that he's well?"

"Of course! So, um, Ms. Adeyaka… are you a professor here? Or a student?" he amends, because sometimes older people take classes here too, ones they never got the chance to take when they were college-age.

"Oh no, but I am an alumna. I'm a pianist, you see, and I'm here to give a concert. Professor Ito and I are good friends," she explains with another smile. "So how about you, Mr. Ouji? What are you majoring in, or haven't you decided yet?"

Tenou, having decided that he'll attend that concert, smiles some more and happily replies, "Education. I want to be a teacher, you see. So, um, where is this concert? I love piano music," he says fervently, which was dumb to say when he really isn't a huge fan of it, because she lights up and queries, "What kind of piano music is your favorite? And which pieces do you like the best?"

"I just like all of it. My favorite is – well, I forget the name, but it's by Chopin. A scherzo," he tacks on, belatedly remembering such a term.

"Oh, I love Chopin too! My favorite of his is…"

As she chatters on about the famous Polish virtuoso, they're walking towards the concert hall. Tenou actually has a class he should be going to, but screw you, calculus! You're unimportant right now, and he can always catch up later. Seeing another Tenkai friend is much more important than math, especially when he hasn't missed a day yet and is getting a wonderful grade so far.

"Are you going to attend the concert?" she asks as they step inside, and he nods emphatically and replies, "Of course! Can I just wait in the audience and do some homework? I promise not to bug you."

She acquiesces, leaves him in the auditorium, and goes off to find Professor Ito, innocently pleased by friendly attentions. He stares at the door as it closes, then digs in his backpack with a grin. Pulling out a notebook and a textbook, he begins to read and make notes, because let's face it, hardly anybody can read a college textbook and remember everything they need to.

But soon his attention wanders, his pen stops, and he stares into space, focusing on memories. He has to wonder how many others from Tenkai there are in Tokyo, because Kujaku never gave any specifics. So Tenou himself, Kendappa, Souma, Kujaku, Zouchouten, Karura, and now Kisshouten. That's seven – no wait, Yasha – _eight _reincarnated gods. And there might very well be more. He has to wonder if any of the ones who haven't figured it all out are dealing with flashbacks and memories, just like he was earlier this year.

From the day he re-met Kendappa in that coffeeshop, he was plagued by a buried sense of remembrance, with dreams and scenes from his past life intruding into his head. She seemed so _familiar,_ and it was startling how he fell for her so fast, because that had never happened before, here.

A fat lot of good it did him, he internally sighs as he doodles a moon and a harp together. It still hurts, but he's been able to see Kendappa and Souma together and do all right. It helps to know that they always loved each other and thus were meant to be, but still, no one just bounces back from getting their heart broken. Distraction is what really helps, he thinks as Kisshouten and Professor Ito walk into the room, the professor babbling animatedly. For a moment Tenou wonders if he'll say something like, "What is this boy who's not in my class doing here?" but Professor Ito doesn't even notice him.

Kisshouten notices him, is pleased to see him clearly waiting for her to play, and decides that she doesn't mind if he listens to her practicing. She sits down at the piano and flexes her fingers, and as Tenou watches avidly, Professor Ito says jovially, "We could've used you for our freshman concert! The pianist got a sudden case of nerves and made more mistakes than you'd believe. I seem to recall that you made only one, and it was small."

Tenou studies her intently as she practices, and is again struck by her elegance and beauty, so gorgeous that he's always felt a little intimidated. Pale skin, taller than him, gorgeous sloe-black eyes, and long wavy black hair with half piled on top of her head and the rest left loose. It's not nearly as long as it was in Tenkai, but it's past her waist and thus very long for Tokyo. Seriously, this woman could be a model; she's got the figure for it and the poise too. She doesn't have the bitchy, spoiled, arrogant, "Anyone who's less attractive than I am is inferior to me" attitude, though, in fact far from it. She was even polite to Koumokuten.

Kisshouten practices some more, and the audience fills up. Eventually she starts the concert, and Tenou is amazed, downright blown away. She was no musician back in Tenkai! She certainly liked music, but she never played any of it herself, that he knew of anyway. That's all true, but in this life, young Kisshouten was exposed to the piano at a very early age, and had a natural aptitude for it. If they'd had pianos back in Tenkai maybe she would have become proficient at it there too, but maybe not. After all, most of her childhood was taken up by learning how to rule, which of course she never got to actually do.

_Wow, _Tenou can't help but think as her fingers dance over the keys. _You're good. I'm jealous, since I tried taking piano lessons at age ten and failed miserably, even though I made sure to practice._

She's playing Liszt, the famous "La Campanella," beautiful and exceedingly difficult, due to the notes all over the keys. But Kisshouten's pulling it off, in fact more than pulling it off, making no mistakes that Tenou can hear and even smiling as she does it. Geez… okay, Tenou is _definitely _going to call up Kendappa and tell her about Kisshouten, because maybe they'll hit it right off again talking about music.

She finishes the piece and the auditorium bursts into applause, for which they get a brilliant smile. Then, as the clapping dies down, she launches into one of her own compositions, the one titled "Snowy Mountains," a slower but still very moving piece of music. After that it's another one of her own creations, and Tenou resolves to buy the CDs she's got out in the lobby, no matter how many there are.

Finally the concert ends, and she gets up to take a bow. Tenou gives her a standing ovation and most of the audience imitates him, making her smile even more. She looks right at him, and thankfully thinks, _Aw, you're so sweet. You seemed to be positively enraptured as I was playing, too._

But she returns backstage, and he goes back out into the lobby, making a beeline for the table set up with her music. Ooh, she has lots of CDs! Geez, is he even able to afford all these? So he buys three, and is pleased to see that her website's address is printed on the back.

He hangs around the lobby for a while, hoping to catch sight of his old pal, but nope, she left while his back was turned. Finally he looks at his phone for the time and sighs in defeat, because he has a lot of homework to do and he should be getting back to his apartment. It's small, cramped, and in a building with lots of loud music and parties since it's full of college students, but oh well, he can handle it.

So he walks out the door, books in tow as he muses on Tenkai and Tokyo, and how some things changed and some are still the same. In particular, he wonders if Shashi is his biological mother. Kendappa's parents weren't her Tenkai parents, so it's very possible that the woman who gave birth to him is someone completely new. He happens to be wrong because Shashi did indeed bear him, but gave him up after her life went through upheaval thanks to Taishakuten. Yes, Tenou again bears the genes of the sociopath and the schemer, and he often thinks that perhaps he should contact the adoption agency and try to get the records, to know once and for all.

But what would he do then? She gave him up, and he doesn't even know if either of his biological parents are still alive. And even if they are, what if they don't want to meet him? What if he was a mistake and both resented him? That would be a blow, to try to contact your birth parents and be told to leave them alone.

_I don't know, _he thinks a bit morosely, hanging up his jacket once he gets back. _I love Mom and Dad, so that really should be enough. Like I told Kendappa, they raised and love me so they're my __real__ parents._

_Focus on the positives, Tenou, _he firmly tells himself. _I met Kisshouten today! Now I have another Tenkai friend, if I can coax her into seeing me again. And then, once Bishamonten shows up, maybe he won't be as ruthless this time around. After all, he did everything for her, right? So once he's got her here, maybe __he__ can be my friend too. I'm more than willing to extend the offer._

_._

Two days later, on a Sunday, Kisshouten has no thoughts whatsoever of Tenou in her mind, and why would she? Nope, she's just waiting to see the piano tuner, for the one in her house. It's a grand piano, but of course, and she treats it very carefully, as does he. She likes him, because they clicked almost immediately. His name is Karasu Kujaku, and he looks very familiar to her, something about his hair and the shape of his eyes.

Big surprise, because his hair is a darker version of Sonsei's, and his eye shape is hers too. Not that Kisshouten met the incestuous stargazer here because she's not here at all, but Tenkai Kisshouten remembered portraits and statues of Aunt Sonsei. She believed, like everybody else, that the pregnant Sonsei made an incantation mistake and her body was shredded by the unleashed power, so of course Tentei interred her and the dead child in a closed casket. That buried memory of her aunt still lives in Kisshouten's mind, even though now she thinks that Kujaku surely just resembles an old friend or something.

When she answers the door, he waves excitedly and chirps, "And isn't this a _lovely _day! Bright sun, no snow yet, and it's not too cold. Weather like this makes you glad you're alive," he says cheerfully as she steps back to let him in, and then he adds, "Especially if you know you're headed to a pal's house, to help her out and have the yummy hot tea she always gives you when you're done."

"Hello, Kujaku," she greets warmly, leading him into the music room. "How are things for you?"

"Dandy, just dandy! And for you?"

"Oh, nothing really new from last time," she tells him with a rueful smile, as he sets his bag down and sits down at the piano. "But I am starting to compose a new album. It's a little more serious than the last one, you know, because some of the critics said _Cherry Groves_ was too 'tinkly and frivolous.' But I don't want to do something so serious it depresses you all the way through. There needs to be some lively, upbeat music, don't you think?"

"Indeed I do," Kujaku grins in agreement, running his fingers down the keys for that distinctive sound. "Depressing stuff sucks. I mean, don't we all get depressed enough in our lives without adding to it? I know I get depressed, and when I do, it helps to listen to happy music, read happy books, and watch happy movies and shows."

Kisshouten fully assents, then goes back into her living room to read for a while as Kujaku works his magic. The sounds of him tuning the piano can be heard for a very long time, because after all, he has to test each key, adjust the strings if needed, test it again, and adjust it again, as many times as it takes. Such plinking would drive most people up the wall, but Kisshouten easily shuts it out. Finally he's done, and just as he said she would, she has tea waiting for him when he comes into the kitchen.

"It's all good," he guarantees as he seats himself. "You won't have to see me for a long time!"

"Well, that's good and bad," she banters back, pouring him some tea. "What if I start to miss your cheerful face?"

And off they go, teasing and laughing. And yet, there's not the slightest hint of sexual attraction, in the least. It just doesn't compute, somehow, for Kisshouten to think of Kujaku in a romantic way. Which of course is a good thing, since the Bhagavaana have had quite enough of incestuous royal family members, thank you.

But Kisshouten would never do that, and Kujaku would never do that either. And every time he leaves, he tells himself, _Once she remembers, __then__ I can tell her I'm her half-brother. Er, three-fourths-brother? Half-brother-slash-cousin? Whatever._

And that time is approaching. There are stirrings in Kujaku's mind, the same as there were for Kumaraten and Kahra, Zouchouten and Karura, and Souma and Kendappa. His piano job he's held for years, because he could tell that someday he would need it, but the rest were shown to him a month or a few weeks before it was time to make his entrance. He _knew _he would be needed as a nanny, as a waiter, and as a pizza delivery guy, and he also knew just who he was supposed to be focusing on.

"You know that little coffeeshop you always go to?" he asks Kisshouten so unconcernedly, setting down his empty teacup. "Where you say they have the best chai tea in town, and the cherry turnovers are to die for?"

She smirks a bit and answers, "They do have the best chai in town, there's no comparison. Why?"

He gives her a secretive smile and urges her, "Go there tomorrow, at 12:15, and you mustn't be late. You just might meet someone you'll have fun with. A certain potential… friend." His wiggled eyebrows give the lie to "friend," as does his broad grin.

"Kujaku," she says seriously, but with a smile tugging at her mouth, "are you trying to set me up on a blind date?"

He shakes his head, grinning some more, and protests, "Not a blind date… a date… with _destiny_," he intones with exaggerated pomposity, throwing his arms out for a dramatic flare. "A date with the man the universe wants you to be with! The man the stars have aligned to spell out, 'Hey! Adeyaka Kisshouten and this guy are meant for each other!' "

Kisshouten can't help but laugh, setting her cup down as well, and asks, "What's his name, then?"

"Oh no, that would be _cheating_," he scolds like life is a board game, and waggles a finger in warning. "I'll only tell you this: look for red hair and gorgeous eyes, and you'll know him when you see him. He'll be quite happy to see you too."

She cocks her head slightly and thinks, then cautiously queries, "A friend of yours, then?"

He shakes his head again and answers, "Not really. He's, shall we say, unaware of my little plots and plans, but he'll be there. You'll get on famously this time."

She tries to pump him for more information, but he merrily deflects each question with, "I'm not telling!" Finally he gets up to leave, winking at her and whistling a love song that she doesn't recognize. It's a Tenkai melody, a song about a man who watched a lady in a royal garden, and devoted his life to her. It's a happy, upbeat song, and Kisshouten finds herself humming it once Kujaku is gone.

Well. A blind date. Should she do it, go there and see this man? She's never really had much interest in dating, because she never felt the man was… right. She has an ideal in her mind of her perfect mate: strong, so handsome he's beautiful, long hair, intelligent, elegant, capable and ready to fight for her at the drop of a hat. And none of the men she half-heartedly dated, or the many others who desperately wanted to date her, had all of those. They usually had one or two, but not nearly enough.

But, well, she's rather lonely, and she's not getting any younger. It couldn't hurt to go, and hey, if she doesn't like him she doesn't have to see him again. Oh sure, Kujaku is making Nameless Guy out to be destined for her, but Kisshouten is not a religious woman and she doesn't believe in destiny, Fate, or even any gods. She believes in what she can hear and see and touch, and she can't touch or see Fate. But even so, maybe Kujaku has picked out a great man for her. After all, Kujaku wouldn't set her up with someone awful, would he? No.

"Okay," she says aloud. "I'll go there tomorrow, and I'll meet this mysterious red-haired man with gorgeous eyes. I certainly hope he's nice."

For the rest of the day, her thoughts wander to Mysterious Redhead with increasing frequency, and she speculates on his appearance. Will he be tall and muscular, with a beard and dancing green eyes? Will he be slender and beautiful, with curly hair and an infectious smile? Will he be fat? Oh, she hopes he won't be fat, that's not very attractive even if he is the sweetest person in the world. Ideally he'll be her perfect fantasy man, and he'll treat her so chivalrously she'll feel like a fairytale princess, as stupid as that is in this day and age.

_Why is it so stupid? _she thinks rebelliously. _Why is it a bad thing for a man to hold doors, be polite, and do nice things for me? Why is it stupid if he protects me because he loves me? I don't want to just stay in his house all day and clean it, I'd still want to have my profession, and even if I did want to be a housewife, if it made me truly happy it shouldn't be so bad! I wouldn't stay with him if he treated me poorly, after all._

Or would she? She doesn't think so, but given what happened in Tenkai she does have a number of submissive, justifying-her-man's-unacceptable-deeds tendencies. But it also has to be said that she's a lot more independent here in Tokyo, because she had to be. If you don't get married early, you have to learn how to do things for yourself, and she honestly _likes _being autonomous.

Anyway, she has a hard time concentrating on what she's doing, and it gets worse as time goes on. By the time she's made dinner, she's burned her hand on the stove and almost burned the rice too. She sighs, with her burn bandaged and the worst of the singed rice thrown out, and sits down to eat, muttering inside her head that she must be more desperate than she realized if a blind date affects her like this. It never has before, but maybe she just instinctively trusts that Kujaku knows exactly what she needs.

When she goes to bed, the first step of her reawakening occurs: she has a dream about Tenkai, which also has never happened to her before.

She's in the royal gardens, only twenty years old in human years, wearing a fancy dress and fancy jewelry, wandering around in what appears to be a random path, but it's actually not. No, she's looking for someone she just saw here, hoping he's still around, and also hoping that her father doesn't look down and see her talking to that particular man. Tentei is an overprotective parent and she's the princess after all, so he wants her to wed someone he picks out, somebody important. He has his eye on the current Zouchouten, a handsome warrior with dark skin and black hair, and an infectious smile.

That Zouchouten is nice enough, really, but he's obsessed with his tribe's prize cattle and prone to talking about himself all the time. No, if given her way Kisshouten would go for the man she's looking for: Vaisravana, the red-headed, gorgeous Snow God of the Northland, just a couple decades older than her, which in god years is practically nothing. Where is he? She saw him talking to that Thunder God Taishakuten of the Northland just a few minutes ago, so where can he have gone?

Oh well, she sighs as she halts. What would she say to him anyway? She's shy, and he's always exceedingly polite, never giving her any indication that he sees her as anything more than the princess. For all she knows, he actually dislikes her and –

The sound of rustling leaves reaches her ears, and she turns to see Vaisravana right behind her, to her right with his hand on the bush. She jumps a bit, unnerved that he could sneak up on her like that, and his face immediately turns concerned as he hastens to apologize, "Please forgive me, Princess Kisshouten, I didn't mean to frighten you."

"No, I'm not frightened," she says quickly, and he looks quite relieved. She goes on, "I haven't seen you for a long time, General Vaisravana. Was Taishakuten just telling you that you are needed to hunt demons again?"

"Oh yes," he says glibly, and suddenly there is a sense of foreboding that there really wasn't, when this occurred.

But she just smiles at him and replies, "Well, I am sure you will do my father and Bishamonten proud, as you always do. I – I hope you will not be gone too long?" she asks awkwardly, and there is just the barest of flushes on her cheeks.

And just when things might have been set in motion that would change their lives forever, in a very good way, she hears a bark of "Vaisravana! I don't recall giving you permission to talk to my daughter alone like this."

Tentei is here, glaring at Vaisravana, who immediately sighs, "I ask your pardon, Your Majesty. We just happened to encounter one another, and were discussing my next deployment. I shall take my leave now," he soothes as he bows, then at Tentei's sharp nod turns without another word and walks off.

Kisshouten knows better than to stare after him, just faces Tentei and says as innocently as she can, "Truly, Father, that was all. Please don't think he's up to no good. He's a gentleman, after all."

"Hmph," Tentei mutters in an unconvinced tone, glaring at the path that Vaisravana disappeared down. "Something about him's not right, Kisshouten. I don't trust him, and you would be wise to follow my example. Come back inside," he sighs, gently taking hold of her hand, and she squeezes his as she follows her beloved father back into the palace.

.

When Kisshouten wakes up the next morning, she just lies there for a moment with a hand to her forehead, staring up at the ceiling and running over that dream in her head. It was most strange, and the strangest part is that it felt so real. Even now she has a hard time believing it was actually a dream, but it had to be, right? And oh, that Vaisravana… _that's _her ideal man right there. Handsomely beautiful, elegant, a warrior, and chivalrous too. All right, that foreboding thing was kind of odd, but she never saw anything in the dream that would warrant that feeling of unease and distrust.

Well, perhaps she was so consumed with thinking about Mysterious Redhead that – Hey, Vaisravana was a redhead! Maybe… maybe…

Maybe her subconscious was just putting it all together and making up her perfect man, she sighs as she gets up. That's all it was, there's no such thing as clairvoyance, right? Right. Vaisravana won't be at the coffeeshop because he only exists in her head, she mutters as she goes down to the kitchen.

But when she steps into that coffeeshop at 12:10, she can't shake the hope that he will be there. Dumb? Yes, she thinks as she waits in line, but it's not the dumbest thing in the world. She orders her chai, takes a seat by the window, and waits, wondering if this guy really will be here, or something came up and she's come all this way for nothing.

And then, the door opens again and a familiar red-headed man steps in, whistling an upbeat little tune and smiling at the woman who's just leaving, holding the door for her and telling her, "You're welcome," after she thanks him. But not Vaisravana… that cute little Tenou from Kaminari University the other day.

For a moment she just stares at him, and thinks, _Really, Kujaku? __Really__? A teenaged boy?! Maybe this is just a coincidence._

But he does have the red hair, and as he catches sight of her and grins hard, she realizes that he really does have gorgeous eyes. Still, this is – this is…

"Hello Ms. Adeyaka," Tenou says brightly, forgetting the line and crossing to her. "What a coincidence!" He was just visiting a friend, and picked this coffeeshop completely at random.

_Well, Kujaku did say he was unaware of his little plots, _Kisshouten has to think, deciding that being friendly can't hurt. So she smiles back at Tenou and replies, "Yes, how funny. Would you like to sit with me once you get your – well, whatever you're having?" she invites, indicating the chair across from her with a wave of her hand.

He agrees to that, gets his coffee, and sits down across from her, wondering how to get a conversation going. She looks pensive, like he's disturbed her from some sort of reverie, but she seems happy enough to see him. Good! Perhaps he can coax her into exchanging numbers for pure platonic friendship, he thinks so unsuspectingly. Then he hits on a conversation starter, and asks, "What kind of drink do you have there?"

"Chai tea, it's my favorite," she answers with a smile. "And you?"

And from there the ice is broken. Soon they've gotten on the subject of Tenou's history class, then Kisshouten's recollection of history classes and other college courses. She's saying, "So after the dog ate my thesis, I was in a panic! Remember that these were the days before home printers for most people, so it wasn't like I could just print another one off."

"What did you do?" Tenou asks, wide-eyed and feeling Kisshouten's pain. "Did you have to go down to a printing shop?"

"That's exactly what I did," she confirms with a nod, then laughs, "But my problems weren't over. First my floppy disk didn't have enough room for the thesis with all the other things on there, so I had to delete a bunch of older things. Then it was pouring rain, and I had to put the floppy in a plastic bag so I was sure it wouldn't get wet. Then I barely made it into the printing shop before they closed, and the employees kept giving me dirty looks as I was printing off pages and pages of musical theory. And then – guess what happened then," she coaxes with a grin.

He grins back, and obediently guesses, "The printer ran out of ink?"

"Yes! And the employee who changed it was very surly. But I got it all out and assembled, and put it into a bigger plastic bag that I'd luckily thought to bring. Finally I got home, made sure my apartment-mate's dog was locked out of my room, and was able to go to sleep. But it was the most stressful night I've ever had," she sighs ruefully, then takes another sip of her chai.

Tenou shakes his head, and sighs, "Wow. I sure hope _my _thesis won't go like that! I think my most stressful night was when I was babysitting triplets when I was fourteen, and one of them had an asthma attack. Luckily she had an inhaler and I knew where it was, but I still had to call 119 because it didn't help enough. Thankfully, she was fine. I would've felt awful if something had happened to her on my watch," he says fervently.

Which makes the impressed Kisshouten think, _He's responsible. That's another point in his favor._

"You really like children, don't you," she smiles encouragingly, and he nods over and over as he replies, "Oh yes, I love children more than adults, except of course for certain individuals. They're so interesting, so different, and so sweet. I'll probably never have any of my own, though," he sighs dismally, and she is intrigued.

Why would a nineteen-year-old who loves kids say something like that? Is he actually gay? Or has he had his heart broken and is convinced he'll never love again? She wants to ask, but that's too much too soon, so instead she just murmurs, "Well, if you like them, I hope you're wrong."

"Yeah. Thanks," he says awkwardly, indeed pretty convinced that he'll never love again. After all, even if he finds Hanranya, she'll be a pale reflection of what he felt when he was dating Kendappa. Granted Kendappa never loved him at all, but he thought she did, stupidly yet truly.

Tenou and Kisshouten talk for a while longer, and he decides that maybe they should go for a walk and talk where other people can't hear them so well. He might be able to make some veiled inquiries about Tenkai that way! If he's lucky he'll start to jog her memory, and then she'll be happier, right? Isn't it best to know what you truly are? Won't she need to know for when she meets Bishamonten? Yes, of course.

So he asks her, in as casual a manner as he can, "I know we've both finished our drinks, but would you like to take a walk with me and talk some more? That one barista is starting to give us dirty looks, as are the people who can't find a place to sit."

Kisshouten looks around, and yup, no less than three people are frowning at her. Whoops. She hastily gets up as she concurs, "Yes, that would be lovely. Where do you want to go?"

"I dunno. Where you want to go?"

"To the left," she decides as they walk to the door, having thrown their empty cups away. "There are some interesting shop displays that way, especially with Christmas coming. But do you know, in America, they put up Christmas decorations before Halloween in some stores."

Tenou is confused by that, and points out, "I thought they liked Halloween a lot, and they had that – that Thanking holiday between that and Christmas."

"Well, they do, but…"

Kisshouten explains American holidays as they walk off together, and Tenou hangs on her every word. The non-glaring barista smirks to herself, amused by the older woman and the younger man. Ha, funny! What would that cute guy's parents say?

Three minutes later, she looks up and grins as a man enters the shop. He's red-headed as well, blinking snowflakes out of long dark lashes, gorgeous black eyes amused. Tall, handsome, clad in an expensive overcoat and with a natty goatee, he turns a few heads just like he always does. As he crosses to the counter, he greets the barista with a pleasant, "Hello, Sayoko."

"Dr. Kita," Sayoko smiles in what's almost relief. "You're late. At first I thought my watch was fast! Usually you're here at 12:15 on the dot."

"One of my patients was having a crisis," Bishamonten sighs sadly, taking off his gloves. "But we've got that all sorted out now. Let's see… you know, today I think I'll be _really _adventurous and indulge myself with one of those whipped cream, butter pecan cappuccinos…"

.

"Oh yes, I love music," Tenou is saying to Kisshouten as Bishamonten sips his fancy coffee, unaware of what he just missed out on. "I'm a fan of pretty much everything: traditional, pop, rock, Classical, ethnic, jazz, and even some rap songs. Just not country, country makes my ears hurt with those nasally twangs they sing in."

"Such hideous sounds they make, yes. You'd like to believe that only the uneducated can find such things pleasing, but I know many Americans from my college days who insisted that Billy Ray Cyrus's 'Achy Breaky Heart' was the height of musical entertainment," she sighs dismally. At Tenou's perplexed look she hastily explains, "It might have been a chart-topper, but most people who didn't like country wanted him muzzled with duct tape after they'd had to hear it over and over."

"That's funny," Tenou snickers, envisioning a man in a cowboy hat being forcibly shut up onstage by duct tape-wielding rock and Classical fans. Then he mentally adds, _I don't think I've ever heard you be funny before._

Kisshouten just smiles, pleased by that compliment, because very few people have ever told her she's funny. She doesn't usually make jokes, and that one was more of a humorous stating of a fact, but still, it's nice to make Tenou laugh. Maybe she should try to be funny? Or would that be forced and fake? She's usually serious but good-natured, although there are times she's laughed so hard she had tears in her eyes.

"Well, anyway, I'm glad I don't have to listen to country if I don't want to anymore. My dorm mate and a few boyfriends were country fans, but now, I can choose what I hear," Kisshouten says serenely, then asks ever so casually, "So Tenou… do you have a girlfriend?"

"I… well see, I _was _in love with this woman," he begins awkwardly, then rallies and says firmly, "Her name is Kendappa, and I loved her for years. I was beginning to date her and thinking things would turn out my way, but she was always sort of hesitant, like it wasn't what she really wanted. She'd met this other woman, Souma, and _they _were in love and – oh, it's so complicated, but the gist is I let Kendappa go so she and Souma could be together, because I loved her so much and wanted her to be happy."

"Poor Tenou," Kisshouten says compassionately, laying a comradely hand on his shoulder. "I hope they appreciated that noble action of yours."

He sighs, forces a smile, and tells her, "Oh yes, they were very grateful. I still keep in contact with them, just not very frequently because it's hard, you know. I mean, I like Souma an awful lot, but it's difficult to see the woman you love with somebody else, no matter how much you know you did the right thing."

She nods seriously, trying to put herself in his shoes, and murmurs, "I can imagine how that would hurt. And yet, you know, it demonstrates your maturity in two ways. One is the way you let Kendappa go, and the second is the way you stay friends with them. I think a lot of people would cut off all contact just so they won't have to deal with such emotional pain. I've had many friends do that with ex-boyfriends and girlfriends."

"Well, it's – I said it was complicated," he flounders, trying to think up a way to introduce Tenkai that won't make her think he's crazy if she doesn't get it. Then it hits him, and he says seriously, "They both believe they were soulmates in another life. Do you believe in things like that, Kisshouten?"

His hopes are dashed when she emits a tinkling yet condescending laugh, before she replies, "No, of course I don't. We live in 2011, not 1611! Science has taught us so much, and it's silly to think of past lives and mythology. I mean," she catches herself, realizing how rude that was if Tenou's a believer, "I don't see any evidence of it myself, but if I ever do, I might change my tune."

Well, that's a definite rejection of the idea of Tenkai, and no mistake. He heaves a little mental sigh, but oh well, maybe as time goes on she'll start having dreams and memories, and might be more willing to believe in the concept of reincarnation.

So he changes the subject with, "Do you have any pets? My parents have a cat, but my apartment only allows fish, which I decided not to get because they're not actually affectionate."

"No, I don't have any pets either," she says in a mournful tone. "I mean, I used to, but then my dog Eiko died and I was too heartbroken to get another one. No one can ever replace her, so I just figured she'll be my only dog. Although I've been thinking recently that I should get a rabbit or something, or a hamster, just to have someone to love and take care of again."

They talk of animals as they wander farther down the street, until suddenly a wonderful scent catches their attention. Apple cider! Ooh, true apple cider is rare in Japan, but like most American things, it's catching on. The delicious smell is coming from that cart over there, the one that's doing brisk business. Tempting, very tempting indeed, but…

"If I hadn't already had chai, I would buy that cider," Kisshouten sighs, trying to talk herself out of it.

Tenou lights up, seeing an opportunity to score brownie points, and asks, "Will you let _me _buy it for you? To be nice?"

"Oh, I wasn't – I mean, I wasn't trying to hint that you should buy it for me," she hastens to assure him with pink cheeks, but he smiles some more and replies, "I didn't think you were, but my offer still holds. I want some cider too, so why not?"

She grins at him and gives in with, "All right then. That's very sweet of you."

_You like me! You really like me!_ she thinks, somewhat stunned that such a thing is making her heart race like it was in that dream with Vaisravana.

But Tenou pays for two cups of hot cider, thinking of what a nice friend he is. Kisshouten accepts hers when he hands it to her, thinking of how gallant this is. Surely this is a gesture of interest! Or maybe, she firmly reminds herself, it's just a gesture of someone who would really like to be friends. Well, she wants to be friends too!

He's so sweet, with his polite personality and his chivalrous ways, such as holding the door and buying this cider. There's something alluring about him, not in a blatantly sexy, romantic way, but more a quiet, matter-of-fact way. Is it the strength of character coupled with the probable innocence? She has a hard time seeing this boy hooking up with random coeds, or going down to a strip club and hollering rude comments at the strippers and waitresses.

He is… strangely familiar, but at the same time seems new. She is surprised by his assertiveness, and not surprised at all by his kindness. Well, he was probably very polite and kind when she knew him as a child, she thinks so unsuspectingly, and he had to have been very shy too, so that's why his self-confidence seems odd. That has to be it.

They turn around and wander back the way they came, until finally Tenou asks, "May I have your number? Just, you know, to talk and connect again? I'll give you mine," he offers a bit desperately, but there's no need for that.

"Of _course _you can have my number! I was planning on asking you for yours if you didn't ask me," she tells him with yet another smile, throwing her empty cider cup away then pulling out her phone. "We seem to understand each other rather well, and I had a lovely time just walking and talking. And drinking cider," she adds with a wink, making him grin some more.

So they add each other to their contact lists, making sure they get it right. Yay! The first thing Tenou's going to do when they part ways is call up Kendappa, and tell her that Kisshouten is not only here in Tokyo, but now one of his friends. Kendappa will be excited and probably want to meet her as soon as possible, but she'll have to wait, because Tenou knows Kendappa. Kendappa, when she is excited about something, is very direct about it. She might blatantly tell Kisshouten about Tenkai, and then Kisshouten will think she's a weirdo and not want to associate with her anymore.

And so, after Tenou waves goodbye to Kisshouten at the bus stop, he immediately calls up the voice actress, the first time he's done this in a month or so. At first he thinks she isn't answering because she can see who it is and doesn't want to talk to him, but then she breathlessly greets, "Hi Tenou."

"Hi Kendappa. Um, are you okay?" he asks in concern, worried at her breathless tone.

"Ohhh yeah. Souma and I were just – well, y'know," she says lamely, and his happy expression for a moment turns to a glum expression.

But then he remembers why he called, and tells her excitedly, "Kendappa, you'll never guess who I just finished taking a walk with. Someone else from Tenkai, somebody with long black hair, and black eyes, and a nice laugh, and who's really tall and elegant. She has no idea who she is yet, but –"

"You met Kisshouten!" Kendappa cries, so loudly he winces as it hurts his ears. "Oh my gosh, Souma, did you hear that? Kisshouten's here too, and Tenou knows her!"

Souma's voice can faintly be heard, asking, "Is she well? Is she with Bishamonten?"

"Yes to the first question, no to the second question. I asked her that, and she gave me this weird look before she said she didn't know anybody by that name," Tenou sighs a mite dismally. "But I have her number and she has mine, so I'm just going to hang out with her some more and see if I can't make her remember. You know, drop little hints that might jog her memory."

"Good idea. Very, very good idea."

.

_What a sweet young man, _Kisshouten is thinking as she heads home. _What a kind, chivalrous, intelligent –_

_Boy toy, _a mean little voice whispers in her head. _You want an innocent little younger man, so you can play with him? You want to be a cougar, as the Westerners phrase it?_

_I don't want to __play with him! _the rest of her snaps, justifiably offended. _Never, never. It's not __because__ he's younger, it's __despite__ the fact that he's younger. But he seems so mature for nineteen years old, like he's lived for – oh, I don't know how many years, but he's certainly wise at a young age. He doesn't act like any other nineteen-year-old I've ever encountered. __And besides, Kujaku set me up with him, didn't he? I saw no other redheads in that coffeeshop. So Tenou's the one. Maybe it won't work out, but I'm willing to give it a shot. If it doesn't work out, well, then I'm no worse off than before, am I? _she thinks logically.

Ah… but what if it begins to work out, they grow close together, and then they fall apart? That would be worse than before, to actually love someone and then lose them. But she doesn't think like that, stupidly in fact, but after all, it is that time of month were sexual feelings are heightened and the mind subconsciously casts around for a mate. Oh, ovulation – it can make you brilliantly creative, and it can up your arousal, but it can also lend itself to taking romantic or sexual risks when they shouldn't be taken.

_I have his number, and I'll take things slow, _she muses to herself. _I'll be his friend above everything else, because he seems so eager to be my friend. Perhaps that will be enough, and Kujaku will be wrong, but I never turn down a new friend. So… I'll call him tomorrow, _she thinks with a confident nod, making the guy next to her hope she's decided to open her top and come on to him.

Men.

.

In his apartment, sparsely furnished because he doesn't plan to stay here long, Kujaku frowns at the visions he's getting in his head. Kisshouten completely missed Bishamonten, and instead picked up _Tenou_. Oh man, this is bad. She was _supposed _to see Bishamonten, talk to him, remember, and live happily ever after with the jerk. What rotten luck, that Bishamonten was late for once in his life, on such an important day.

Luck. Kujaku turns that word around in his head, then frowns and quotes Obi-Wan Kenobi: " 'In my experience, there's no such thing as luck.' "

Did the Bhagavaana do it on purpose? Is this some form of punishment for Bishamonten? Is it some sort of punishment for Kisshouten? But what did _she _do wrong? Her faults in Tenkai were being spoiled by her father, being passive for three hundred years, and avoiding the man she loved, and compared to so many other people's those are nothing. But whatever it is, it can't be a boon for Tenou, since the person he's meant to reunite with and love, though not in a romantic sense, hasn't made herself known to Kujaku yet.

But Bishamonten is known to Kujaku. He's a psychologist who's much nicer here than he was in Tenkai, devoting his life to helping people instead of hurting them. He has no memory whatsoever of Tenkai, but if things had gone well he would've walked into that coffeeshop, smiled at Kisshouten, and then when she smiled back at him, he would've remembered all of it. Her smile was precious to him, something he lost through his own actions, but had he been there he would have seen it for the rest of his life here in Tokyo.

But there's still time to fix this, isn't there? Kujaku can set things up again so they'll meet, tell Kisshouten when she tells him of Tenou that the teenager isn't the one she was intended to see, and send her off to meet Bishamonten. Heck, maybe Kujaku should just tell her she's got some neurotic tendencies and recommend Dr. Kita, and then it'll all be good and they'll have sex on his therapist couch. He's got one!

And yet…

Kujaku _likes _Tenou, loves him as a close friend even, and he does _not_ like Bishamonten, even though the General of the Northland is a much better person here. Bishamonten, after all, slaughtered Yasha's tribe and caused him massive heartache, killed many other people, and of course, made Kisshouten miserable for three hundred years. To be totally honest, Kujaku is exasperated that she not only forgave him that but loved him. If someone had held Kujaku captive and killed a parent he adored, then avoided him for so long and never explained why he did it – yeah, Kujaku would've killed him himself, no matter if he'd started out loving him.

Kisshouten could use a good man. Tenou could use a good woman. Kujaku felt so sorry for him when he lost Kendappa to Souma, even though the stargazer knows that Kendappa isn't even capable of loving a man. And Tenou does like Kisshouten, liked her long ago in Tenkai as well, and she liked him too. So Kujaku is very, very conflicted, because he wants to find Yasha and that entails matching up the right people, but on the other hand, he wants his half-sister and his friend to be truly happy.

He concentrates, asking the higher powers, _Who is she meant for?_

The answer comes into his head immediately: _Kisshouten is meant for Bishamonten, and he's meant for her. His deal with Taishakuten was folly, because if he'd just __told__ her he loved her in Tenkai, she would have gone to him with no regrets, no matter what Tentei would have said or Bishamonten might have done later, in the war.__ But she's allowed to make her own choices, just like Kendappa was._

"Yeah, but," Kujaku says aloud, "Kendie is a lesbian! I mean, the Bhagavaana had to know who she was gonna choose all along, right?"

Nothing comes into his head, and he makes a rude gesture at the ceiling with a sigh of "Fine, be that way. You guys don't make my job easy, do you? And here I thought this step was gonna be the simplest one, not the hardest one. Sheesh, makes me wonder what other little surprises you have in store for me. No fair, making me choose when I have no way of knowing which choice is better!"

But what if he lets _Kisshouten _choose? She'll have a better understanding of both men, especially when she awakens as she is destined to do. Somehow, Kujaku has to think she'll make the right choice, even when he can't decide what it is.

_Okay Kisshie. It's all up to you now. I'll pop in when the time is right, but for now, I'll watch from the shadows and give you no hints either way._

_._

"…I was wondering if you might like to have lunch with me this Saturday," Tenou is telling Kisshouten a week later. "I mean, nothing fancy, but I know this great little restaurant that serves really, _really _good sushi, not the gourmet stuff but the best basic sushi I've ever tasted. You like sushi, right?"

"I do like sushi," she says gaily. "Where is this restaurant, and when shall we go?"

"Hold on, I'll send you directions…"

And so on and so forth. They are completely at ease with each other, which she finds startling and he finds natural. He's happier now than he's been for months, and she's happier than she's been for a while too. They text, they email, they call all the time, because Tenou's desperate to get as close to his old friend as he can and Kisshouten thinks he's romantically interested in her. Oh, if only he hadn't been convinced that she can only love Bishamonten he would've picked up on this, but as it is he just thinks his friendly gestures are working like a charm.

"I'll see you this evening, then," he says with a smile. "I hope you have a good day!"

"Thank you, and I hope you have the same. Goodbye, Tenou."

"Bye Kisshouten!"

As she hangs up, she glances over to the mantle and sighs dismally. A piece of cut paper art is what she's looking at, formed into the shape of a purple peacock, so it should be no surprise that it's from Kujaku. The dismal sigh isn't because she's angry at him, but more like she's disappointed in him.

He isn't answering his phone, and she's tried to call him no less than five times this week, to talk about Tenou. Did something horrible happen? Is he in the hospital after being struck by a car? Is he _dead_, gods forbid? She's very worried, and so she finds the number for the company he works for, and is told that Kujaku no longer works there. That's all they'll say, no matter how she pleads with them to tell her why, or where he went. This makes her think he was fired, but he actually quit of his own accord so she couldn't track him down.

Why? To watch this play out. She has no way of knowing that though, and has to think that maybe what she thought was friendship was just an acquaintance to him. That hurts, that here she counted him as a close friend and he just up and leaves without even deigning to say goodbye.

So when she's at that sushi restaurant with Tenou, she apologetically tells him, "I'm sorry if I don't seem as animated as usual. I lost contact with a friend, very suddenly, and I never would have thought he'd neglect to tell me why he was breaking it off."

"Oh. I'm very sorry to hear that. It's always hard when somebody does something like that," he commiserates, putting his bite of sushi down. "So, if you don't mind me asking, what was his name? I'm just curious."

He most certainly did not expect her sighed answer: "Karasu Kujaku. He was my piano tuner, but we really liked each other. Or at least, I thought we did, but maybe he was just playing some game with me for reasons of his own and never really liked me that much at all."

The name can't be a coincidence, Tenou thinks as he uses his god-king poker face. Kujaku! If Kujaku was around for Kisshouten, surely her memories will come back soon enough. But strange that he would leave all of a sudden; did something come up with someone else, and he had to put Kisshouten and Bishamonten on the backburner? Tenou decides that's the most logical explanation, and so says nothing besides a suggestion that maybe Kujaku had an emergency pop up, and he'll be back in contact with Kisshouten soon.

"I hope so," she says fervently. "I like him very much. I think you would like him too, because he has a wonderful sense of humor and he's very kind. He gave me some art, he's made cookies before… I certainly hope he'll come back."

"Me too," Tenou replies, honestly and very firmly.

They continue their meal, laughing and talking animatedly, and by the time they go home, they've made another friend date. At that one, ditto, on and on and on, getting to know each other far better than they ever did in Tenkai. Tenou never knew, for example, that Kisshouten is petrified of spiders, and Kisshouten never knew that Tenou really, really likes gardening. That's a Tokyo thing, but he always did kind of want to mess around in the dirt as a prince, but of course princes don't get to do things like that.

It's… nice, to have Kisshouten as a friend again. She's always been a calming presence, and he finds himself truly looking forwards to seeing or talking (or typing) with her. She's even invited him to her house, and it was great. She played the piano, she cooked a nice meal, they watched a movie. And he's invited her to his apartment, and she never let any judgment show about how small and low-income it is.

She's good for him. She forces him to go out into the community for fun, not just by necessity, and she's a wise person to talk to instead of other college students, many of whom are smart but lack wisdom. Tenou, for all his body is nineteen, has the mind of a three-thousand-and-five-year-old god, one who experienced terrible things and learned so much. This means college academics are much easier, and he's no longer afraid at all of being attacked, but it does tend to leave him not as interested in gossip, bragging, and chatter for the sake of chatter. Not surprisingly, his professors have taken a real liking to him as of late, and a lot of other students think he's stuck-up, even though he's very nice to them.

_It's weird… I'm mentally older than Mom and Dad, and Kisshouten, _he thinks as he takes a break from his homework. _That's just so abnormal it almost makes you laugh. I'm so used to thinking of them as my elders, after all._

She seems to appreciate his maturity, though. In fact, right now she's just thinking that he's like an older gentlemen in manners; she's never heard him be rude or say anything mean about anyone who wasn't mean to him first. And even then, it's not cruel, just mostly disgruntled. And for some of the things people have said and done to him, she can't believe he isn't using worse words than "jerk" and such.

Ah well. That's part of his charm, and the more she gets to know him, the more she's glad they encountered each other.

She's learned all about his family: Aimi, his adoptive mother, and Kichirou, his adoptive father, from whom he gets his passion for education. He's shown her pictures, and Kichirou is a balding middle-aged man with black hair, while Aimi is a plump, short dumpling of a woman with blond hair. They obviously love Tenou and he obviously loves them too, and Kisshouten is glad to know that. Her own parents here are a little cold, nothing like Tentei and his beloved wife Michiko, and so she honestly doesn't talk to Mr. and Mrs. Adeyaka that much. They would be offended if they knew she was attracted to a younger man, so nope, she won't be telling them about Tenou for a while.

.

Another day, another piano engagement, this one at a benefit for a shelter for women in Shinjuku-ku. Kisshouten actually refused payment for this mini-concert, although of course she has the albums for sale. Still, she'd feel pretty slimy if she charged money while appearing for a charity, since she's well-off now. Granted back in the lean years she would've had no choice but to charge a fee, but these days, she doesn't have to.

She plays well, more than well, clad in a new skirt suit and with one button on her blouse undone, which for her is very bold. She feels, subconsciously, that she needs to start being sexy, because men love sexy things and surely Tenou is no exception. It's a small step, but it's something, from the woman who never wears low necklines or short skirts. Except, well, her lingerie is always sexy, because she likes how it feels and looks on her, but it still never features thongs or garter belts.

She gets lots of applause, and when she joins the luncheon five minutes after the end, all sorts of people are dropping by her table – some of them quite glamorous and wealthy, others of them poor but here for this good cause. Her tablemates consist of three low-income women who used to stay in the shelter but were able to move on, and now volunteer their time to help others. It makes Kisshouten feel rather guilty, actually, that all she's done is give money and play this benefit, not actually get her hands dirty, so she makes the vow that she'll talk to the director and see what else she can do.

_Maybe Tenou's rubbing off on me, _she thinks as one of the women recounts her abusive home life prior to the shelter. _He gives money to every panhandler he sees, even if it means he can't buy himself something he was going to the store for. That's true caring._

_I want to help too, _she thinks with conviction. _I want to make people's lives better in whichever way I can, not just write a check, show up for a concert, and things like that. Maybe Tenou and I can even volunteer for this shelter together, since he told me he thinks this is a very worthy cause._

So, once the luncheon breaks up, she corners the director and offers her services. Ms. Mazaki is excited to have another hand on deck, and says fervently, "The best thing you can do is come in and talk to them, and help them find resources. You're fairly well-known and you know a lot of people, so your network could be very useful to help these women get their lives back. Jobs, housing, even just your music as something to enjoy… all of that would make it easier for them."

Kisshouten leaves with an excited smile on her face. She calls her dear friend as she exits the building, greeting, "Tenou? You remember how I told you I was playing that benefit for the Kasumi Karen Shelter for Women?"

"How did it go?" he asks worriedly, afraid that something went wrong.

"It went well. I talked to the director, and I'm going to start volunteering more time and contacts," Kisshouten tells him excitedly. "They have a piano in the shelter, so I can play, and then she said I can just talk to them too. So I was calling to see if you'd like to join me sometime."

He's more than happy to agree, and when she hangs up, she sighs happily. Oh, what a wonderful person he is.

He's cute. _Really _cute, in all three senses of the phrase. He's adorable-cute, with the way he gets flustered sometimes and blushes so becomingly. He's attractive-cute, with his big eyes and gentle smile and boyish good looks. And he's hottie-cute, with his nice broad shoulders and fine figure, well-built for a teenager and only going to get better. Plus his smile – his smile could win him a prize, if they awarded money for perfect, bright grins that make you feel all warm inside, no matter if you're attracted to him or not.

"Ah," she sighs aloud, her breath visible in the cold air. "He's a catch."

Suddenly something catches her eye, just ahead of her and to the right: a florist's shop, with lovely displays in the windows and festive decorations. It's small but very neat, and the arrangements are masterful. She stares at Shirobotan Florists, and suddenly has the urge to send some flowers to Tenou. Maybe some red roses… because red roses symbolize romantic/sexual interest.

But then gender roles admonish, _The woman doesn't send the man flowers! Maybe in the West they do, but here in this country you wait for him to send them. You can send them to your parents, your cousins, or your friends, but you don't send them to a man you're interested in, that's presumptuous._

She frowns at the florist's shop, and stubbornly thinks, _Times are changing, and I __am__ the older one, doesn't that count for anything? He doesn't seem to be picking up on my hints, so this will make my interest clear. Wouldn't it be even more presumptuous of me to ask him out on a date? And what about Valentine's Day? Women give men chocolate then, why can't I give him flowers on a regular day?_

_I wish it __were__ Valentine's Day, _she realizes then, with a flush on her cheeks.

She would make him the best chocolate he's ever tasted. Many a year she didn't make chocolate for anybody, but back in high school and college packs of boys dreamed she'd make it for them, and whoever got her gift would preen and get jealous looks from all the losers. She still remembers the basics of how to do it and has the recipes, and isn't it time that she finds herself a mate?

Her biological clock is all but run out, but that's not it, the desire to have a child. What she wants is someone to love, a life partner, because each holiday night gets lonelier than the last, and her standards are too high for her to settle. Well, here is a man who, while not perfect, is good and understands her, and who _is_ perfect, really? No one.

_I'm sending him flowers, _she firmly tells herself, and marches into the shop with her head held high.

She comes face-to-face with the proprietor herself: Haka Kahra, née Shirobotan Kahra, who gasps at the sight of Tenkai's princess. Good heavens, another reincarnated soul! And here she thought she, Kumaraten, and Kujaku were the only ones. She wants to genuflect to the former god-king's daughter, but if Kisshouten doesn't remember Tenkai yet, she'll probably think Kahra's crazy if she does that.

So instead Kahra sends her a warm smile, and a very polite, "Good evening, madam. How may I help you today? If you have questions about _anything_, even if you think they're silly to ask, please let me know and I'll do my best to answer them."

Kisshouten smiles back, and responds, "Thank you ma'am, that's very kind of you. I do have a question, actually… how far do you deliver?"

"All over Tokyo," Kahra says promptly, which is a lie but she'll persuade the driver to make a special trip for Kisshouten. "Do you have any idea of what you would like?"

"Well, I'd like sixteen of your finest red roses," Kisshouten replies, with a tiny flush on her cheeks. "Perhaps you could add some lily of the valley in with them, and alstroemeria."

Kahra seems a bit surprised that a woman is ordering red roses, but smiles and agrees, "All right, we'll include those too. Now, whom shall I address them to?" she asks as she whips out a card. Unbeknownst to Kisshouten, she thinks the other woman is secretly a lesbian, and thus gender roles are nullified.

"Ouji Tenou," Kisshouten tells her, with no flush on her cheeks this time and a firm tone in her voice. "From Adeyaka Kisshouten, in thanks for his smile that brightens my day."

Now Kahra stares. "Tenou"? Perhaps the name is a coincidence? That has to be it, because why would Tenkai's rightful princess be anything but furious at the son of the man who killed her beloved father? It's not a common name no, but surely it's not that of her nephew, because Kahra has no twin sister here. But then again, her parents here are not her parents in Tenkai, so maybe Shashi is around somewhere…

"Is there a problem?" Kisshouten asks a bit hesitantly, perturbed by Kahra's stare and long silence.

Kahra shakes herself out of it, and smiles, "Of course not, ma'am. 'To Ouji Tenou from Adeyaka Kisshouten, in thanks for your smile that brightens my day,' " she recites as she writes.

Kisshouten tells her the address, Kahra tells her that the flowers should be at his apartment by seven in the evening at the latest. The brunette pulls out her credit card to pay, but Kahra hastily puts her hand over it and protests, "Oh no Ms. Adeyaka, this is on the house, even the delivery. It's my pleasure."

"Oh," is Kisshouten's surprised response, then she remembers her manners and says warmly, "That's so very kind of you. Are you _sure?_ I'm more than willing to –"

"I'm sure. But please, if you like the flowers and the service, come back!" Kahra brightly suggests, and Kisshouten laughs and replies, "Of course I'll be back, with service like this." _Even if you are pretty far away from my house._

She smiles and says her grateful goodbyes, and Kahra watches her go, then whips her phone out and dials her husband. This news is too big too keep inside. Kumaraten will be just as surprised, Kahra is sure.

Her husband, who thankfully has just finished washing his hands after preparing a corpse, pulls his phone out, lights up as he sees who's calling, and answers it with a fond, "Hello, darling. Is everything all right?"

"Kumaraten," Kahra says excitedly, "I just saw Kisshouten! _Princess _Kisshouten! She was in the shop, and she ordered flowers for… guess."

"Bishamonten's funeral, so nobody would suspect she killed him?" Kumaraten replies, and it's not a quip, it's a deadly serious question.

"No no, honey, although that's a good guess. No, she ordered red roses for _Ouji Tenou_. Do you think he's _Shashi's _Tenou? I mean, 'Ouji,' that name would fit just like ours do," Kahra muses, absentmindedly beginning to choose the roses. "And 'Tenou' isn't a very common name, I've never heard it used here. Kumaraten, I think something is afoot, because we were so removed from Zenmi, and maybe they were secretly in love there. And we just never knew?"

"It's possible. It's very possible indeed…"

Completely ignorant of Kahra and Kumaraten's speculations on her love life, Kisshouten is catching the light rail to go home, still flush with the audacity of sending flowers to a man. But he's just, well, he's really something, and she feels like she's known him forever. And maybe there is a bit of maternal affection mixed in for this sad young man who got rejected, for the soon-to-be-teacher who loves kids yet has none of his own and probably never will, judging by his casual comments on the subject.

Maybe part of her thinks, _You poor dear, let me mother you, let me soothe your tortured brow and hold you to my breast –_

Whoa, okay, that was the _wrong _phrase to use in conjunction with motherhood, as it led to a sudden mental image of him doing to her what babies do to their mommies, minus the lactation of course. She turns beet red and hastily looks back out the window, focusing on the scenery whipping by and not that both arousing and embarrassing mental image. That was not a good thing to think!

But it stays with her, and morphs to other visions. By the time she gets home she's distracted and pink-faced, aroused and desperate. Well fine, it's not like she didn't think about this before. She's a straight woman and he's an attractive man, straight too. Could anyone truly blame her for this, unaware that Bishamonten is meant for her? No, no one could. No one could blame her for the decision to relieve that tension to thoughts of Tenou (again), because it's a rare person indeed who doesn't do the same thing. She slips out of her clothes, fumbling impatiently at the buttons, and soon she's just wearing her panties.

Before she gets in bed, though, she has an idea. She grins, finds a certain CD, puts a certain track on "repeat," and chuckles aloud at the opening notes of "Edge of Seventeen." He's technically the edge of eighteen or twenty, but who cares? This will add an extra kick to the pleasure, and she suddenly realizes how well the lyrics fit, since he seemed broken-hearted about Kendappa, and such. Whee, time to indulge this newfound younger man fetish of hers.

"Ooh, Tenou," she coos as she slips her hand down beneath the waistband of those panties, "I'll bet you look even cuter naked."

She imagines such a thing, as her fingers gather wetness and stroke her folds. Yes, he'll be in shape, muscular, and big but not too big, genitally. And he'll have a flush on his face, maybe be trying to hide his erection, avoiding her eyes and saying weakly, "I, um, haven't done this before. Have you?"

"No, darling," she'll tell him, clad in sexy lingerie that offsets her coloring. "But I have a good idea of what to do, since I am, after all, thirty-seven years old."

She'll gently push him back, lean over him, and kiss him, hungry, lustful kisses that will drive him wild. He'll kiss back, his arms going around her and bringing her down, and she'll feel his hard sex against her belly. She'll begin to move her kisses down, from his jaw to his neck, from his neck to his collarbone, from his collarbone to his pecs, and he'll wait with bated breath for her to reach her target.

She slips a finger inside herself with a happy noise, and her other hand goes to her nipple, gently rolling and tugging it. Oh yes, she's always thought fellatio sounds fun to do, and she's read enough to learn the basics. So she'll skim her hand up his shaft from the base to the head, and whisper, "Ooh, you're so big," because he will be big.

She'll put her mouth on him, and he'll taste like – um, whatever such a part of male anatomy tastes like. Probably just like regular skin, but it will feel even warmer due to all that blood needed to keep it in an upright state. He'll groan and tangle his fingers in her hair, but he won't force her down on him.

No, he'll just pant and beg as she licks and sucks him with much enjoyment, until finally he'll gasp, "Stop! I don't want to come like this, without making you feel good too."

"Why don't you eat me out?" she'll breathily suggest, and he'll light up as he agrees, "I've wanted to taste you since the day we met!"

Now, in reality, a guy with no experience with cunnilingus (or so she thinks) would be clumsy and make some mistakes. But nobody fantasizes about that, they fantasize about perfect abilities even with a virgin! So Fantasy Tenou will start out slowly, teasingly, hesitantly perhaps, but that's part of the fun of imagining a virgin with her.

"Ohhhh yes," she gasps, mimicking her imaginary lover's tongue with her fingers, and wishing so badly it truly is Tenou's mouth on her. How good would it be, to have that warm, wet sensation of _somebody else _pleasing her? Everyone says it's so much better, and she wholeheartedly believes them.

Yes, he'll lick and gently suck, all over, everything, and then… he'll put his tongue inside her body, making her groan in pleasure and buck up against him. And he'll be loving her taste, thinking to himself that she's delicious, smiling as best he can.

Her fingers are now inside her, not too far in just yet but enough to pretend they're his tongue. She pumps them in and out, as her other hand still works the corresponding nipple, just like she'd be doing if he really were going down on her. Should she come to thoughts of cunnilingus? Or should she wait until she thinks of intercourse?

She decides that she'll stretch this out as long as she can, because it feels so wonderful. But she can imagine she's having an orgasm from his mouth, oh yes she can. It'll be a big one, and why wouldn't it? One's first cunnilingus experience is usually better than anything before if one hasn't had actual intercourse yet. So ahh, she'll grind up against his mouth, crying out in ecstasy, and he'll keep working her with his tongue so the climax will be even longer. He'll be getting _so _excited, and he'll feel justifiably proud that he did that for her.

Finally her peak will stop, but she'll still be aroused. She'll catch her breath, and then she'll pant in gratitude, "Oh Tenou, that was so wonderful. But I need you inside me now!"

"I need it too, Kisshouten," he'll reply with desperation in his voice. "I've needed to fuck you for so long."

She'll spread her legs and beckon him closer, smiling and flushed, still horny and still eager. She'll observe with wide, excited eyes as he takes hold of that shaft and lines it up with her entrance, then he'll look back up at her and say…

"I'll make it wonderful for you."

"Ahhhh, yes you will," Kisshouten gasps in the real world, inserting her fingers in as far as they can go. "Fuck me, Tenou!"

And he does in her mind, so very skillfully and with stamina no actual male virgin has. She doesn't feel any pain in this little mental romp either, but who besides a masochist fantasizes about pain? No, in that fantasy she feels only pleasure, heady overwhelming pleasure, and it will make it even better that he's obviously feeling more than he ever has before too. They'll groan and pant things they would blush themselves into spontaneous combustion at if anyone else heard, but the words will make it feel even more exquisite.

"Oh – Kisshouten," he'll gasp out, slamming into her, "I – it feels so _good!_"

"Yes! Yes, ah, it does," she'll gasp in reply, as they both get closer and closer to release. "Tenou – _Tenou_ – make me come!"

He'll go harder, faster, until suddenly he can't take it anymore. He'll scream her name in ecstasy as he comes, she thinks feverishly as she can feel her own climax approaching. It's almost there, almost there…

The heel of her palm pressing down on her pleasure bud, her two middle fingers pumping frantically in and out, and the two outer ones spreading her folds apart and rubbing back and forth, she is desperate, fully aroused, chasing that exquisite peak with the single-mindedness approaching orgasm brings. Oh yes, yes, _yes_, he'll be coming so hard inside her, and then_ –_

"TENOOOOU!" she screams aloud as her climax washes over her, making her body convulse both externally and internally. It's a big one, a very big one, possibly the most major orgasm she's ever had. She thinks of nothing but this blindingly magnificent peak, and it seems to last longer than prior climaxes as well.

But it ends, fading slowly but surely, until she stops the movements of her hand and body because it's suddenly too sensitive. She pulls her hand away, holds it up with a shaking arm, then lets it flop to the side.

She makes a beautiful picture of self-satiated femininity: sprawled back on her bed with her hair spread all around; her breasts free and heaving, dewed with sweat; a pink flush on her cheeks and an open red mouth; eyes half-lidded and glazed; her legs spread apart and trembling; a wet spot on those lacy panties; and her right hand glistening with her own fluids. Yes, even someone with terrible vision could tell that this woman has just given herself a major orgasm.

She just lies there for the longest time, trying to catch her breath, and feeling no shame. Why should she feel shame? Who wouldn't have done something similar in her shoes? So what if he's younger, he's cute and he likes her a lot, so there. For all she knows – for all she _hopes _– he's done the same to thoughts of her, multiple times.

Finally she makes herself sit up, because she's hungry. She puts a robe on and walks shakily to the bathroom to wash her hands, thinking to herself, _I've sent him the flowers, I've made my interest known. What happens next is up to him… but please let it be what I want to happen._

_._

As Kisshouten cleanses her hands of the evidence of her pleasure, Tenou is clocking out from work. His supervisor, the bitchy boss who called him an idiot the day he met Kendappa, nods and tells him, "Good job today, Ouji. Have a good night now."

"Thank you Shiori, you have a good night too," he says politely with a smile, expecting none and return and getting exactly what he anticipated.

But as he walks out, he's still smiling. He's been constantly standing up to her since the revelation of who he really is, and while she still seems perplexed that her formerly pushover underling has a spine now, she at least respects him enough not to heap abuse onto him. Of course, his abilities were magnified too, and by now he could probably make the entire menu blindfolded and with one hand tied behind his back. He's so proud.

_I know what I'm doing. I'm in charge of my life now, _he thinks as he gets onto the subway. _When problems come up I confront and deal with them, instead of just letting them roll right over me. Ah… sometimes I wish my mother Shashi could see me now. She might be perturbed and even afraid if I stood up to her, but I know that deep down she would be proud too, _he muses correctly as he takes a seat by the aisle, next to a grumpy old man who glares at him.

Tenou just gives the crabby oldster a bright smile in return, and the old man seems taken aback. Then he glares even harder, and Tenou heaves a mental sigh as he puts his earbuds in. Okay, be that way, poor unhappy soul. Tenou won't bother him anymore by being nice.

The ride is uneventful, but when he gets back to his apartment, he can hear a loud drunken party down the hallway. Oh well, things like that are certainly normal in this building, he thinks as he passes that door, his eyes alighting on a lovely bouquet someone has left for their lover farther down the hallway. Awww, cute! My, it must be for Satsuki next door, a sweetiepie whose boyfriend does romantic things like – hold up now, it's in front of _Tenou's_ door!

He stares down at it with his jaw dropped, stunned that he has an admirer. Who would send him this? Or is this just a mix-up? Well, he should bring it inside either way, before the drunken partygoers spill into the hallway and decide to mess this lovely arrangement up. If it's not for him, he can just go give it to whichever neighbor it is for, since he knows everybody on this floor at least by name. So he gingerly steps around it so he can unlock his door, then carries the beautiful bouquet inside with much curiosity.

He lays it on the table and sets his bag down, takes his coat off, and moves towards the flowers again. His brow furrowed, he picks the card up, fully expecting this to be a mistake – and drops his jaw again as he reads the words, "To Ouji Tenou from Adeyaka Kisshouten, in thanks for your smile that brightens my day." Kahra even added a little heart.

Oh… boy. She sent him flowers. She sent him _red roses_, and for a moment he almost panics. She can't like _him_, she has to find Bishamonten! Right? …Right?

Maybe not. Didn't Kujaku say that gods and humans have to make their own choices? Yeah, but Tenou wants her to be happy, and he's pretty sure she wouldn't be truly happy with him. What if Bishamonten's around but Kisshouten just doesn't know it yet, and when Mr. Northland General waltzes back into her life, she leaves Tenou for him? That would sting, maybe not as bad as Kendappa but it would still hurt. Not to mention that she's an amazing, he thinks flawless woman, and he's just… Tenou. No raving masculine beauty like Bishamonten, no handsome heartthrob like Yasha. Honestly, he's convinced all those pretty, interested young ladies in Tenkai only swarmed him because he was the prince.

"No, this is bad," he frantically tells the flowers, like they can comprehend him. "I had no idea she thinks of me like that! Oh man, all this time when I was being friendly, I bet she thought I was being flirtatious. I should call her up and explain everything!"

But…

He would be lying if he said he wasn't attracted to her, hasn't had some sexy dreams and self-pleasure sessions of his own. She's so desirable, more so than Kendappa, he suddenly realizes. Wow, he's come quite a long way in very little time, because he used to think Kendappa's looks were perfection and no other woman could hope to compare. But Kisshouten _is _more beautiful than the harpist, with her longer face and gorgeous eyes and ruby-red lips – he really likes those, as dumb as it is. But lipstick makes her look more womanly, less girlish than Kendappa, and there is an allure about an older woman.

And she is kind, intelligent, fun to be around. If she weren't older than him and meant for somebody else, he would have few qualms about falling in love with her. But as it is –

_Why don't I deserve happiness? _a latent rebellious side suddenly demands. _I helped Tenkai heal! I did good things for two thousand , seven hundred and five years, while Bishamonten did terrible things! I lost Kendappa to Souma, why can't he lose Kisshouten to me? I'd make her happy, I know I would, if she lets me. And she wants me to, these flowers make it very clear she does._

Is it a risk? Yes, but sometimes taking risks is the only way you can get something wonderful. And if it pays off, if they fall in love, that would make both of their lives so much better. And maybe Bishamonten isn't even around at all! Maybe he's in Hell, maybe he wasn't one of the people Kujaku was supposed to help get together. Tenou seizes on this idea and clings to it, foolishly but there it is.

So. Kisshouten's attracted to him, and he's attracted to Kisshouten. And he's decided that he's not going to deny that, and is instead going to encourage it. He picks up the roses with a flush on his cheeks and a goofy smile on his face, and deeply inhales the sweet, heady scent, drinking it in.

.

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(AN: "Adeyaka" means "fascinatingly elegant" in Japanese. Kisshouten is, at least to me. And "Ouji" means "imperial prince," if you've forgotten.

So who guessed why I picked Zora Neale Hurston's wonderful Their Eyes Were Watching God as the book Tenou had? It features a woman who was married to two not-nice husbands, who eventually takes up with a younger man who treats her much better than the other two ever did. Their story didn't end as happily as I'd wanted it to, but the ending was still really good and very meaningful. Parallels, people, parallels! And of course there's "Edge of Seventeen"… I am just _piling _on the cougar references, huh?

Constructive criticism on the self-pleasure scene would be much appreciated, since it's the first time I've written that in detail. And yes… Kisshtenou is crack. I'll never claim anything different, but I love it anyway.)


	10. Free Will

**Chapter Nine: Free Will**

(AN: Another chapter, another lemon. Oh well.)

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It's the morning after Kisshouten sent Tenou the roses, and he's staring at them in the kitchen nook, his eye drawn to the pleasing red blooms even when he's trying to concentrate on breakfast. His mind is drawn to them too, and he's wrestling with himself about what his response should be. How does a reincarnated younger man respond to a reincarnated older woman when she does something as blatantly romantic as this, and he's realized that he wants them to step onto that lovers' path?

_Do I call her and thank her, and ask her out to dinner? Do I call her and thank her, but say nothing flirtatious? Do I order her flowers in return, even though I can't afford ones as nice as these? Do I text her and thank her? Do I email her and thank her? Do I play hard to get? _

…_Definitely no to that last one, I hate those little relationship games, _he thinks with a sigh as he puts his plate in the dishwasher.

"I'll thank her in person," he decides aloud with a firm nod. "I'll call her up, ask her to take a walk with me or meet for coffee, and then I'll say – uh… hmm."

He ponders what his lines should be with a furrowed brow:

"Kisshouten, thank you so much for the flowers. They're beautiful, and I realize what they mean. I want to tell you that yes, I'm very attracted to you too. And you see, we used to be friends in our past lives where we were both gods, and now I want us to be lovers in this one no matter if your husband comes between us." Nope, she might think he's insane.

"Kisshouten, you jukujo goddess you, thanks for the red roses, and I want to assure you that yes, I'm willing to be your little boy toy." Ew, no, that sounds like something a sleaze artist would say, yuck.

"Kisshouten… I really appreciate those roses, that was so kind of you to send them to me. I know it was a gesture to signify your desire to take our relationship to the next romantic level, and I'm not lying when I say I'm more than happy to do that. You're wonderful, you're beautiful, you're my friend, and I don't care about the age difference, no matter what everybody else might say. May I take you to dinner?" Yes, that will work!

"Okay, Tenou," he tells himself as pulls out his phone, "you have to be cool and smooth for this. Just because the last time you wooed a lady it ended horribly, that doesn't mean it'll happen this time if you just stay natural and don't mess up."

He dials Kisshouten's number, and it rings and rings. Dang it, _why _does the phone always do that when you have something important to say, and when you're trying to avoid saying something hard, they pick up immediately? It's one of those unexplained phenomena of life.

She does not answer because she's in the shower, so he leaves a message: "Hi Kisshouten, it's Tenou. I… need to talk to you face-to-face as soon as possible, please. Call me as soon as you can, you know my number and I'll have my phone turned on. Well, bye," he says as confidently as he can manage, then blurts out, "Love you," before he hangs up.

All right, he's taken the first step. Now all he can do is wait.

.

A mere twenty minutes later, Kisshouten checks her phone. And there's a message from Tenou! With her face flushing pink and her heart in her throat, she listens to it. At the last two words she gives a brilliant smile to her kitchen wall, and she dials him back as soon as she can. He's far from mad! See, he was _totally _flirting with her all those earlier times.

He, of course, answers immediately, with a heartfelt, "Hi Kisshouten. Did you get my message?"

"Yes I did. Shall I come to you, or should you come to me?" she asks flirtatiously, and his voice is a little shaky as he replies, "Why don't we meet in the park near my apartment. I'll be there as soon as I can, okay? Oh, I forgot to thank you for the flowers earlier. They're beautiful!"

"Yes, they are. Well, I – I suppose you want to talk it all out face-to-face, so I'll just wait until you get here," she decides a bit awkwardly, and at his fervent agreement she farewells, "Goodbye then. Love you too."

And so, by the time Tenou walks into the park, both he and Kisshouten know how this life-changing conversation is going to go. They're both grinning like maniacs, and as she waves at the sight of him, he mentally admonishes himself to _not _get all babbly and loud. C'mon, he's a god-king, right? Right, just remember all those important, delicate situations, Tenou, and it'll all be fine. Oh, but do be suave, suave is good.

"Thank you, Kisshouten, for the beautiful flowers and all they symbolize," he tells her from the heart, as he takes hold of her hand and stares deep into her eyes. "I know it's a little odd, but I can't help but be drawn to you."

"I'm older than you, yes. But it's happened before," she points out a bit urgently, going so far as to grab his other hand. "You're not a child anymore, and we're friends, so why should this be wrong? You're certainly not going to bilk me out of all my money and run off to Majorca."

He grins roguishly as he teases, "Oh no, I'd run off to Hawai'i instead!"

She laughs at that quip and he joins in, then he sighs, "Seriously, no, I'd never do anything like that. I could never harm you that gravely, Kisshouten."

"I know," she says softly as they get closer and closer. "And I could never harm you either…"

A kiss. Soft, hesitant, just a simple press of closed lips to closed lips. But it's quite possibly the sweetest kiss she's ever gotten, and she's never liked men who use tongue on the first liplock. That's moving way too fast, but Tenou is the type to take it slow, which she's always found very attractive.

Finally he pulls back and opens his eyes as she opens hers, so they stare into each other's for long moments, as in the background a group of young women glares and mutters hurtful words about old ladies stealing hot guys. But Kisshouten and Tenou don't hear such nastiness, although they'll hear those words and many worse ones as time goes on. For now it's good not to hear them, and to just be awash in these new feelings. A little scary, a lot pleasing, somewhat giddy, and very warm… such is the first flush of "Hey, you're attracted to me too!"

She softly tells him, "Did you know, Tenou, that Kujaku set us up? He told me to go to the coffeeshop where we first went for a walk, telling me to look for a man with red hair and gorgeous eyes, and –"

"Really?" he asks in awe, wondering if this is a sign or if it's a dreadfully ironic mistake. After all, Bishamonten has red hair too, and eyes that are much more gorgeous than Tenou's.

Ignorant of that, she replies so happily, "Yes, really. And so now here we are. I only wish he'd call so I can tell him we're together."

Tenou longs with all he is to tell her everything he knows about Kujaku, but instead just agrees, "Yes, I wish he'd call too. I'd really like to meet him! He sounds very fun. So, um, Kisshouten… I think, because we're a couple now, I should take you out to dinner, huh? Would you like to go to Ishizu?" he coaxingly suggests, naming one of the fanciest restaurants in Nakano-ku, which happens to have a faux Ancient Egyptian theme.

"Oh sweetheart," Kisshouten responds a bit maternally, "I appreciate the gesture, but you can't afford a restaurant like that! Why don't you let _me _take _you _out?"

He takes hold of her arm as he gives voice to the protest of "But I'm the guy, I'm supposed to pay for things! I got a raise at my job and I've been saving up for a while, so please, let me take you out to Ishizu." He was saving up for a new laptop that actually works at a decent pace, but she doesn't need to know that.

But Kisshouten denies him with a shake of her head, laying a calming hand on his shoulder as she insists, "We're already non-traditional, and I'd feel bad if you spent more money than you should on me. Tell you what… how about you pay for dessert?" she suggests hopefully, seeing from his stubborn expression that he's going to keep protesting. For good measure, she adds in a gentle tone, "If you must, think of it as an early birthday present. Yours is coming up, if I recall correctly."

He acquiesces gracefully, with a soft, "All right, then. How about on Saturday? Will you at least let me call and make the reservation?"

Kisshouten fights off a laugh, and instead says with a firm nod, "Yes, please do that."

And so he does. At 5:50 on Saturday Tenou finds himself with an arm around Kisshouten's slender waist as they walk into the restaurant, him clad in a black tuxedo and her clad in an elegant white dress, long and tasteful. No cups overflowing for Kisshouten; this dress doesn't show any cleavage at all. He finds that strangely attractive, and as the waiter leads them to their table, he realizes that he likes it way better than a low-cut top where any onlooker can see her breasts.

As for him, he rented the tux, but hey, it works. Nobody else has to know that, right? And it feels somehow reassuring to be all dressed up again, standing in a fancy setting, and about to eat gourmet food with a beautiful, well-dressed woman. He gives her a peck on the cheek, then takes hold of her arm and steers her to her place with a gallant, "Allow me to pull out your chair, Ms. Adeyaka."

"Why thank you Mr. Ouji, you have such impeccable manners," she grins as he does just that. He even helps her into it.

Once he sits down, he glances all around and has to confess, "I've never been in here before. Have you?"

"Yes, once. But the company is infinitely better than last time," she says with total honesty, then hastens to explain, "I was with a group of other musicians that I frankly didn't like very much, but it would have been rude to reject their request to join them. Two of them were conceited blowhards who unfortunately disagreed over the least little thing, so most of dinner was spent listening to them argue. So like I said, this is a world away."

He sends her a grateful smile at that, then picks up the wine list. It's a good thing it's hiding his face, because when he looks at some of the prices, his eyes go comically wide and his jaw drops. The prices would've meant almost nothing to God-King Tenou, but Ouji Tenou has to grudgingly admit that he's glad Kisshouten is paying for the dinner. These fees would wipe out all hope of getting a new laptop for months! Many months. So okay, maybe he should get used to her being the breadwinner; after all, a teacher never makes very much.

"Finding anything you like?" her musical voice intrudes into his thoughts. "If you don't know much about wine, I could pick the bottle."

"Um… to be honest I'm not familiar with any of them, so you'd better choose," he admits somewhat ashamedly, so choose she does.

As the waiter walks off, Kisshouten lowers her menu to whisper, "This is so exciting, Tenou. I've never been on a date with a man I liked as much as you. And I also feel rather smug, because all these women are looking at you and glaring at me."

"Look at the men," he urges with a jerk of his head at one particularly jealous-looking individual. "A lot of them are doing the same to me."

After ordering their ludicrously expensive meals, Tenou informs Kisshouten, "You know, I think about you all the time now. Sometimes the professor will say something that reminds me of you and I'm zoned out for the next minute or so, and have to ask my friends what the professor said later. They're all teasing me that I've got it bad, and I guess they're right."

He makes the "daring" move of covering her hand with his, and she beams at him as he beams right back. For a moment that's all they do, and darn it if it this isn't another moment happier than the entirety of his life in Tenkai. He wants so badly to tell her that, but now Tenkai is taboo, for fear of jogging some memory of Bishamonten. Well, maybe he should just say…

"I find it so amazing that just sitting here with you is better than anything else I've done, besides kiss you of course," he tells her as fondly as he can. "It's like – it's like a movie love scene, or something."

And it continues being like a movie love scene; all they need is a violin player at their table. But it's good that it's real life, because that way no one will crash through that huge window over there (this is a film law: if a large pane of glass is visible, _something _is going to come through it, usually at the most inopportune or dramatic time). And it is true that most movies don't have the lady paying the bill, with the gentleman picking up the dessert tab. Plus, no one ever seems to bring home leftovers in movies, even though restaurant portions are far too big.

Laden with their little boxes, Tenou escorts Kisshouten to the door and holds it in a display of chivalry, feeling so proud of himself. It went well! She toasted him no less than three times! She gave him a kiss after they stood up! Best. Date. EVER, he thinks in a happy daze as they exit the establishment. And then, he remembers something he'd meant to tell her earlier.

"I'd like you to meet Souma and Kendappa," he tells her politely but firmly. "I've mentioned you, and they _really _want to meet you."

"Well that sounds lovely," Kisshouten replies with another smile. "Where and when shall we do it? I'm free all weekend and most weeknights."

"I could call them right now and set up a time," he offers as he pulls out his phone, and she nods as she agrees, "That sounds like a sensible way to do it. They could come over to my house, if they'd like. I could even play for them."

And so Tenou calls Kendappa, and when she answers he greets her with, "Hi, it's Tenou. I just finished having dinner with the most beautiful woman in the world," he grins, glancing over at the flattered Kisshouten.

"Ooh, somebody's being smooth," Kendappa giggles a bit wickedly, as Souma grins beside her. "Tell her 'hi' from us. When are you going to bring her over? Souma and I are so eager to meet her we're going bonkers. Bonkers, I say!" she dramatically repeats.

"Well, that's why I was calling," he replies as Kisshouten stifles her own giggles at Kendappa's words. "She really wants to meet you too, so we were hoping we could set something up right now. Are you guys free on Sunday afternoon, maybe two-ish?"

"Hold on, let me check. …Yeah! Yeah, bring her over here! We wanted to show you our new decorating scheme anyway. Souma has quite an eye for such things," Kendappa brags proudly, patting her fiancée's hand, and Souma chuckles, "Funny how she says that now, but we were arguing for the longest time over the color scheme. Anyway, can she hear me?"

"Yes," Kisshouten loudly answers for Tenou. "Hello Souma, I can't wait to meet you and Kendappa."

"Same!" the other two enthusiastically reply, then Kendappa drawls, "But we'll leave you two alone to continue your date. Bye!"

And with that she hangs up, before Tenou can say "bye" in return. He sighs, turns his phone off, and says apologetically, "She does things like that, all impetuous sometimes. At first I thought it was endearing, and most of the time it's fine, but sometimes I just have to roll my eyes."

"And that's progress," Kisshouten reminds him as she leans her head against his shoulder. "It's a mark of moving on."

.

Thus, on Sunday at 2:00, Kisshouten is all smiles as she strolls down the hallway to Souma and Kendappa's apartment with her beau at her side. She drove this time and picked him up, and as they halt in front of the door, she's saying, "I'm glad you knew a faster route than the GPS, because we would've been late if we'd relied on technology."

"It's still an amazing thing," the reincarnated Iron Age god says a bit too gratefully than he should, and he's about to say more when the door swings open, and Kendappa cries in excitement, "They're here! Souma, come see!"

Kisshouten, looking at the smiling lady who's appeared at Kendappa's side, has the sudden urge to say, "You seem quite cheerful for someone who watched her family die."

But of course she doesn't, because in addition to being rude, that makes no sense. Souma hasn't mentioned her family at all, so why does Kisshouten think her parents were murdered before her eyes? Well, maybe Souma's parents _were _murdered, and Kisshouten saw the story on the news years ago, so her conscious mind forgot it but her subconscious mind recognizes the daughter? No… that doesn't seem right, somehow.

But she tries to ignore it, just bows gracefully to Souma as she greets, "How lovely to meet you, Souma."

"And the same to you, Kisshouten," Souma says fervently, resisting the compulsion to hug her old friend very, very hard. "Tenou's told us so much about you, and we sort of feel like we know you already."

"Come in, come in," Kendappa exhorts with much smiling, going so far as to take Kisshouten's hand and pull her inside. Tenou, feeling a little ignored, follows with a shrug, and Kisshouten notices something then.

There, set on a stand covered with cloth, is an Indian harp, a rare type to see here in Tokyo indeed. Kisshouten's heard them a few times but she's never played the piano with one, and she has the distinct sense that this harp's player is a master. Perhaps they can collaborate?

"That's a _beautiful _harp," she breathes as her eyes gobble up the sight of Kendappa's instrument, which by now has been customized to look more like the original Tenkai instrument. The pianist turns to her and questions, "Which of you plays?"

Kendappa treats her to a proud smile and answers, "I do. Not to brag, but I'm really good at it. I'll play it for you later, if you want," she offers "selflessly," because she finds so much enjoyment in making music.

Kisshouten voices her eager acquiescence, and with that Souma leads her and Tenou to the living room as Kendappa goes for some refreshments. Souma perches on the couch and Tenou sits on the chair next to her, while Kisshouten takes the chair next to him, across from Souma. Both women are quite pleased by this alignment, since they want to study the other one. Kisshouten's feeling of familiarity gets stronger and stronger the more she looks at Souma, although she does think the dark-skinned woman should be wearing all black, not a gold t-shirt and khaki pants.

As for Souma, she thinks that Kisshouten looks precisely how she'd expected her protector to look in the modern world: clad all in white again, a nice knee-length skirt with a matching suit jacket, low heels because she's so tall already, and her hair put up into the same style except shorter, and minus the jeweled comb. All in all, you would think you were looking at a modern-day princess, since everything on her is quality.

"So Kisshouten," Souma begins casually, "Tenou says you're a pianist."

"Yes, indeed. That was how we got reacquainted…"

And Kisshouten's off, talking about her life and asking about her new friends', smiling at Tenou and holding his hand while being completely oblivious to what the other three know. Kendappa is pleased by everything Kisshouten/Tenou related, Souma is still sort of surprised by it, and Tenou can tell that if Kisshouten steps out for a moment, he'll be getting a grilling. And indeed, after an hour and twelve minutes…

"Please, where is your bathroom?" his girlfriend asks politely, as always feeling a little embarrassed when she has to allude to bodily functions.

But Souma just smiles brightly and replies as she gestures, "Out the door over there and on the left, you can't miss it."

"Thank you. I'll be right back," Kisshouten directs at Tenou, then gets up and walks off as the other three follow her with their eyes.

The minute they hear the door close, Kendappa, Souma, and Tenou all lean in, ready to talk about Tenkai in the little time they've been given here. Kendappa starts it off with, "She seems much happier here than she did back in Tenkai. Seriously, she's smiling so much more and she really seems to like you."

"Kujaku was her piano tuner," Tenou says quietly. "He sent her to the coffeeshop where saw each other again, telling her to look for 'red hair and gorgeous eyes.' I had to think at first that he really meant Bishamonten, but he's gone so maybe he _did _mean me. I hope he did, because she's – well, she's – special," he finishes with a flush to his cheeks, but his head held high.

"Y'know, I thought, when we were dating, that you needed somebody who likes being treated like a princess," Kendappa softly replies. "And I was right. But… aren't you worried about Bishamonten showing up?"

"Immensely so," Tenou admits in a mutter, dropping his head into his hands. "But I haven't seen any sign of him, even though I look over my shoulder all the time now. He's the elephant in the room, and she doesn't even know, Kendappa. I haven't seen _any _signs of remembrance. And that's what makes me hope this might work, you know, if she never remembers and is just happy with me."

"It could happen," Souma encourages with a comradely pat to his shoulder. "I don't see why it couldn't. Bishamonten, after all, was a very nasty man, who treated her badly when they were married. Somehow I have a hard time believing he was more good than evil."

"So do I," Kendappa and Tenou say in unison, and she flashes him a grin as he goes on, "I mean, yes, he did it all for love, but _people died_. People were crippled, people were raped, people were tortured, all thanks to Bishamonten. I mean, honestly, I can't fathom _why _she loved a man like him, especially when you factor in the way he forced her to marry him and held her captive, and raped her."

Souma slowly shakes her head and sighs, "None of us will probably ever understand why such a sweet lady like her loved a man like Bishamonten, but –"

"Who's Bishamonten?" Kisshouten's urgent, desperate voice comes from the right, and the other three jump with horrified expression on their faces. That was most certainly _not _a casual question; instead it was the question of a woman whose need for an answer is imperative.

Bishamonten… that name rings a bell in her mind, and she belatedly realizes that she heard it the day she met Tenou and it didn't affect her. But now it does, now it brings on visions and feelings of loss and want, and the overwhelming, sudden sense that she and Tenou are wrong. They shouldn't be dating at all, her soul wails, and while that's frightening it feels so true.

Souma and Kendappa are frozen, staring in fear, so it's up to Tenou to awkwardly hedge, "Bishamonten is, uh… somebody I used to know."

Kisshouten says nothing, just stares at him and then stares at Kendappa, suddenly quite frightened of her. Why? She doesn't know why, but she feels like Kendappa's smiling face is just a lie to mask great cruelty, great callousness. This makes perfect sense, since Kisshouten last saw Kendappa fighting Souma and getting ready to kill her. The older woman has no way of knowing what happened here in Tokyo, how the part of Kendappa called Jikokuten is gone forever; she just suddenly doesn't want to be around her another minute.

"I – I… Tenou, I'm suddenly not feeling well at all," she says with as much politeness as she can muster, but it comes out as desperation. "We need to go. Thank you Souma and Kendappa, it was nice to meet you," she manages, and turns away as their expressions go from worried to nearly distraught.

Tenou has no choice but to dash after her, and as the door shuts behind him the guilty Kendappa mutters, "_Shit_. I should've never mentioned Bishamonten!"

"What have we done?" Souma laments, hiding her face in her hands. "I think we just ruined his life again."

Tenou catches up to Kisshouten halfway down the hall, and as he catches her wrist he begs, "Kisshouten, please tell me what's going on in your head. You're very upset, I can tell, and –"

"Did you lie to me about how we met?" she asks harshly, dead certain that he did.

He winces, and reluctantly admits, "Well… yes, I'm sorry to say. I have no idea who Hatsuto is. But I lied to you because – okay, let's just get back to my apartment, and then I promise I'll explain everything," he swears desperately, even though that's the last thing in the world he wants to do.

She frowns at him, angry and confused, and for the rest of the drive to his apartment she does not speak to him, because her head is filled with visions. Visions of Bishamonten as the young boy Vaisravana, at his mother's side and smiling at her while the adults are talking about boring things. Visions of Vaisravana as the gorgeous young Snow God, kneeling as she walks by in a procession with Taishakuten at his side. Visions of Vaisravana in the gardens, the last time she saw him before she realized that he had betrayed her father.

And Vaisravana blowing down that palace door, stepping through flame and coming for her. Bishamonten walking out of a sumptuous bedchamber, but she can't remember why or what happened next. Her avoiding him with anger and shame in her heart, and his cold expressionless face, which made her think he did not love her. And Bishamonten held in her arms with a mortal wound through his chest, blood leaking from his mouth as he touched her face for the first and final time.

Finally they reach Tenou's apartment building, and she feels like just staying in her car and going home, it's too much. But she forces herself to follow him back to his apartment, and with every step, the sense of _wrongness _grows. By the time he's locked the door behind him she is angry, because he's been keeping something important from her and damn it all, why does he suddenly seem to be more an obstacle than someone she loves?

"How did you know me?" she demands as he turns to face her. "Where did we meet before?"

He takes a deep breath, and though every atom of his soul is crying out to lie, he knows he cannot do that to her. So he tells her, against all his instincts, "It's a long, strange story, and please, just let me tell all of it before you ask questions, all right? Please."

She nods with sharp, jerky motions, and he makes himself say, "We're reincarnated, Kisshouten, from a plane far from here called Tenkai. You, me, Souma, Kendappa, Bishamonten if he's here, and even Kujaku. You were the rightful princess of Tenkai, but my father Taishakuten raised a rebel army and overthrew your father. He killed him, and I guess a lot of people thought he was going to do that to you too, but Bishamonten pleaded for your life and asked that you be given to him as his wife. He loved you, and no one else knew it, but you secretly always loved him too."

The barrier in her mind dissolves at his words, letting her prior life rush into her consciousness. BISHAMONTEN! Her beloved, whom she so stupidly avoided and tried to bring down, all out of a mistaken conviction that he didn't love her at all. But as Yasha battled him she knew her folly, wanted so badly to rewind time and not help the rebels at all, even though Taishakuten was such a monster. And oh, when Bishamonten died in her arms… never had she known such emotional agony, not even when she saw Tentei's bloodied, severed head held high to cheers.

She looks at Tenou with the eyes of the goddess, and croaks, "Yes, I remember now. And – and I remember what Kendappa is."

But he shakes his head and pleads, "No, not anymore. She's changed back to our friend, she's not a monster anymore! She's not like Taishakuten, she –"

"Why did he kill me?" Kisshouten sobs, hugging her torso as the ghost of that sword rends her in two, the pain not physically there but mentally agonizing. "Why destroy what Bishamonten so loved?! I was no warrior, I wasn't one of the Six Stars, I was no threat _whatsoever!_"

"I don't know," Tenou tells her honestly, with his voice choked and tears beginning in his eyes. "Always, when I talked to him, he told me only what he wanted to tell me. Never what he was thinking or thought, or why he did anything. He was just – he was just something I hope I never become."

"You could never become like he was," she almost barks, making him jerk back. "You're kind, and sweet. _Too _sweet," she sniffles, suddenly ashamed of what she used to think was so good.

Yes, too sweet, too tempting. A siren call of an innocent younger man, while what she needed to be looking for was the jaded, cultured man her age. How could she do this? How could she fall for Tenou when she loved Bishamonten so much in Tenkai? What cruel joke of Fate is this, what foolish rush headlong into something that wasn't right? It _felt _right, and it hurts to know what she must do, but she must find Bishamonten!

"I'm sorry," she manages with tears pouring down her face. "Oh Tenou, I'm _so _sorry, but – b-but we…"

"I know," he makes himself say, with tears in his eyes as well. "Go ahead. I don't blame you. I just – I wish – well, it doesn't matter," he chokes out, burying his face in his hands.

It does matter. It matters more than anything else in his two lives, but he can't _say _that, can he? Not when she's made it clear she wants to end this, not when she's remembered her love for Bishamonten, not when things have changed so much after Tenou tried to keep such a revelation away. Most of all, he can't say it because it would just make it harder for her to do what she needs to do, which is leave, forget him, and reunite with her true love. So here are the princess and the prince, crying in front of each other and hurting, one ready to leave, one who wants to stop time right now so she can't.

But she raises her face and wipes her eyes, managing to say, "Th-Thank you, Tenou. You're… you're something special, but I'm not meant for you. G-Goodbye."

And with that, the woman he loves walks out his door without a backwards glance, shutting it behind her with a click that seems to echo in its finality. He stares at it for long moments, unable to even breathe, then he lets out a heartbroken cry as he collapses to his knees.

_She won't come back, _he thinks as he grits his teeth and buries his head in his hands again. _Why would she? How could I expect her to?_

…_Another one gone! _that same part of him wails, wanting to beat its fists against the floor. _Just like Kendappa, and for the same reason! Kujaku said his mission was to get soulmates back together, and how could I have thought that maybe she would choose me over that soulmate? STUPID! And if I hadn't been so stupid, it wouldn't hurt so much now, if I'd pushed her fully away._

20/20 hindsight. It's so easy to see what you should have done after the fact, but while it happens, so often you're blinded by emotion. But Tenou is correct that he should have known better, and at first he did, but her unknowing insistence that it was all right proved his undoing. Still, few could truly blame them, because at the time it seemed to be a good thing to do, the right thing to do even, though society would raise their collective eyebrows and judge. As it happened, it felt like they were meant to be, but he should have realized that they never were.

_I was dumb, _he admits as he swipes at his eyes. _But I wanted so badly to have someone to love, and I did love her. I still do, I want her to come back through that door, and tell me she's decided to stay with me and never look for Bishamonten! I want her to realize what we had, not throw it away because it wasn't ideal. I'd be her consolation prize, I'd be okay with being that, and if we worked at it, I know we could make it stronger. If she lets herself, she'll come to love me as much as Bishamonten, I know it can be done because I love her even more than I ever loved Kendappa._

_But that's not what she'll do. She won't ever come back! Bishamonten… right now, I wish you had never been born!_ Tenou thinks angrily, clenching his fists and stomping over to the window. _You hurt so many people, and you hurt her, but you'll still get her while I won't, and all I did was be kind to and love her._

_Oh, Kisshouten, _he laments as he stares out at the city, _I'd fight him for you, but that wouldn't be what you'd want in the first place._

_._

_Bishamonten… my love. My true love. So why do I feel such pain now? _Kisshouten has to wonder, slumped in an armchair as an aria plays on the sound system, overwrought and dramatic. She deliberately picked one like that because sad music would make this so much worse.

It hurts like a physical wound to have broken up with Tenou, but it was the right thing to do, wasn't it? He's not Bishamonten, and Bishamonten must be out there somewhere. After all, Kendappa is here and not in Hell, so Bishamonten should be the same. And when she finds him, won't she be happy? Won't they make up for all the missed chances in Tenkai, and live in wedded bliss like they should have all along? It will be good, to love Bishamonten and have that love returned while they have their lives ahead of them, and have the chance to do all sorts of romantic things and maybe even have a child.

Oh… Bishamonten. Yes, every time she thought of her ideal man here, she was thinking of him and just didn't know it yet. He is cultured, classy, intelligent and indeed willing to fight for her, he proved that beyond the shadow of a doubt. He is so beautiful, so handsome, so fashionable too, and his smile warmed her heart and made her want to see it always. But at the same time, so often his smile was tinged with cruelty, directed at his victims, and it makes her ashamed that so many people suffered because of her.

And then a thought makes itself known: she was happy without him. There was no shame, no knowledge of his actions against her, against her father. There was no anger that she is bound to such a man. There was no desire to slap him in the face, scream, "How could you kill those innocent people?" or cry into her hands that she once wanted him to ask for her in marriage.

And yes, he was an evil man. That day in Zenmi it didn't seem to matter so much, but here, now that she's seen more of humanity than the gilded nobility, she knows that what he did was so very wrong. Murdered people – she's talked to murder victims' families. Genocide – she's involved in a campaign against it. His rapacious soldiers – one of her close friends was raped here, and still bears the mental scars because they never go away. All of that, and more, were what Bishamonten wrought, no matter what his motivation was. So she is conflicted, like never before. She loves him but she will always know the evil he did, and having grown here in Tokyo, she has to wonder if she could accept that like she did before, in those final minutes.

And then… there's Tenou.

Sweet, sweet Tenou, no longer naïve but definitely still kind, no longer weak but definitely still sensitive. Before she knew, before he triggered the unlocking of the memories, she thought that maybe she'd found the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Despite the age difference, despite the difference in life experience, despite the fact that he's still in college and she's a working professional.

And yet his personality is not so young. It's very mature, as well it should be, but she doesn't know how long he lived in Tenkai. She believes he probably died in Zenmi as well, since she has little reason to think otherwise. But maybe, now that she really dwells on it, he did live for many more years, since the Tenou she knew back then was a lot shyer, passive, and yes, wishy-washy than the Tenou she knows and loves now. And it is love, there's no point in pretending it isn't. It won't do her any good, not when she knows the truth.

"Some women feel lucky to have two men they love at the same time," Kisshouten mutters aloud, wiping her tears away. "I think it's one of the hardest things that can happen to you."

Bishamonten would be furious at this, she knows. If he were here, he might even murder Tenou, and see nothing wrong with that whatsoever. He would see Tenou as the bad guy, muscling in on Bishamonten's fated lover, and that thought is a chilling one. He would never harm Kisshouten, he's proven that beyond the shadow of a doubt, but he had no trouble at all killing anyone Taishakuten told him to in Tenkai. That's flattering in a twisted way; a man vows to never hurt the woman he loves but destroys anyone else for her. He probably – undoubtedly – would have fought Taishakuten to the death if Taishakuten had hurt Kisshouten before her husband died.

And if Tenou were faced with Bishamonten now… he would just do the same thing he already did, give Kisshouten up even though it hurts him so much. That's noble, there's no other word for it, and it makes her bite her lip to know that for all his elegance and knowledge of high culture and manners, Bishamonten was far from noble. Well, with her he was, but not with anyone else. She recalls his spiteful words about Karyoubinga said to her grieving sister: "The songstress who fouled this place up with her blood," and winces at them.

And what did Tenou do? Look sick at those words, and at the revelation of what had happened to the little girl's body. And he tried earlier to retrieve it for Karura, then after her attack he did his best to support Zouchouten and Kendappa. And Bishamonten just laughed at Zouchouten's pain at the Sky Queen's supposed suicide.

The more she weighs them against each other, the more Tenou comes out ahead. But isn't she _meant _to be with Bishamonten? Yet at the same time, would she ever be truly happy with him after loving Tenou? Would she always be looking to the past, and the might-have-beens?

She blinks then and realizes that she's standing in front of her CD rack, her hands having gone to the _Bella Donna_ album of Stevie Nicks's, which contains, of course, "Edge of Seventeen." She can barely read the words through her tears, but she knows what it is. Moving as if she's in a trance, she inserts the CD into the turntable, thinking to herself that this is all she can do, now. She takes a deep breath and presses "play," and lets the music wash over her.

_I will never be able to hear this song again without thinking of him, _she realizes, closing her eyes and swaying unconsciously to the rhythm. _If I tell him today, "You can never see me or call me or email me again"… I'll still think of him when I hear this song._

_I could just decide to never listen to it again, _the logical part of her brain reminds her. _I could just skip it each time. I could give this disc away, take it off my iPod and computer, and never hear "Edge of Seventeen" again. But if I cut him out of my life and pretend I never wanted him, I'll cry, I know I will. I'll cave in the end and call him myself, or show up at his door and tell him I made a mistake, and that I truly do want him with me._

And that knowledge, that she won't be able to stay away, is what makes her decision for her. Tenou is _here_, loving her, and Bishamonten is not. Maybe he is around somewhere, but damn it all, Tenou was here first. She hurt him deeply when she left him today, but she can fix it. She's certain of this, and she is correct.

So maybe it is wrong, maybe it's not what they were intended to do, maybe she'll break poor Bishamonten's heart if she sees him again, but she has to do what feels right to her. She'll break her own heart if she loses Tenou, and his too, and isn't one broken heart better than two? Can't she be selfish just this once, when it will be a gift to Tenou as well? Well, even if she's not supposed to, she's going to do it anyway, as soon as this song ends. It strengthens her resolve with every note, and by the time it's done, she's all fired up to take charge of her own destiny.

She grabs her coat, grabs her keys, and strides to her garage, a woman with a mission. It's getting to be evening by now, but the sky is still light enough. There is more than ample light, and as she drives off, she looks at the sunset and can't stop a smile. It's beautiful, a spectrum of colors from orange to purple, and there are tiny parts of the sky where the clouds are the exact same shade as Tenou's hair. Maybe it's a sign, because Kisshouten now firmly believes in Fate, gods, and all that jazz.

.

Tenou is not eating dinner. Tenou is not watching TV, nor watching a movie, nor using his laptop, nor doing the homework he needs to stay on top of. No, Tenkai's former best god-king is just sitting on his couch staring blankly at his phone, trying to make himself put it away and not expect a call from Kisshouten. She won't call, she won't come, so why the hell is he still doing this, two whole hours later? Kendappa called but he didn't answer, and he should have but he can't make himself talk about it right now. This is worse – _way _worse – than when he learned that she loved Souma.

_Maybe I don't even want to live anymore, _he thinks dully as he swipes a hand across his eyes. _I mean, I will, because it would hurt my family if I just killed myself, but I don't want to be here in Tokyo anymore. Why am I here, anyway, if both women I loved are going to leave me for someone else? Why aren't I in the Land of the Dead, with my children? If they were here now it would be all right, but they're not!_

And then… a confident knock on his door.

He bolts up, his heart hoping against all odds that she's come back to him, and his head insisting that this is not Kisshouten, this is just a neighbor with a problem. But he dashes over to the door with his pulse racing, and hastily unlocks it with trembling hands.

And there she is, standing tall with a smile on her face.

Before he can speak, she grabs and kisses him, embracing him tightly and with her mouth hungry. He's shocked for a moment before he kisses back with equal fervor, his arms going up around her and his eyes closing as well. She's back! She loves him! Nobody would kiss a man like this if they were only here to say, "I'm more convinced than ever that I should leave you for my former meanie husband."

They cling to each other, hearts beating fast and happy tears in each of their eyes, and it's as if nothing else exists in this moment but the two of them. Bishamonten? Who's Bishamonten? And who's everybody else they know? Right now there's only room in Kisshouten's mind for Tenou, and only room in Tenou's mind for Kisshouten.

Finally she lets his lips go, pulling back as her eyes slowly open to see him gazing into them. She has the most amazingly beautiful eyes he's ever seen, so dark and liquid, so long-lashed and elegantly shaped. And he has beautiful eyes too, though admittedly not as pretty as hers. But each pair holds love and gratitude, and that makes them even lovelier.

"Kisshouten," he whispers in awed reverence, reaching a gentle hand up to touch her cheek. "Why did you come back?"

She gives him another smile, even as tears slip down her cheeks, and she replies, "Because I thought it all over, and I realized that I love you so much, I can't leave you. I don't even know where Bishamonten is, but _you _are here, and you've treated me like a princess indeed. So I'm going to stay with you, and even if Bishamonten shows up on my doorstep tomorrow, I'm going to turn him away in favor of you."

Tenou can say nothing for long moments, then finally gives up on trying to summon words and just kisses her again. But by the time they break apart, he's able to tell her, "_Thank you_, Kisshouten, from the bottom of my heart. I love you, madly and passionately and hopelessly and irreversibly. Come sit down and I'll explain some more about Tenkai. I'll carry you if you like," he offers in a hopeful tone.

"Are you strong enough to do that?" she has to ask, but he grins as he replies, "I think so. You're just tall, you're far from overweight."

And so he does get to carry her, feeling extra manly, and when he sets her down on the couch she giggles, "Sit in my lap, okay? It's only fair."

He obeys with obvious enthusiasm, looping his arms around her neck as he begins, "It's all so very confusing, and there's a fair amount of darkness. Would you believe, Kisshouten, that Ashura was destined to destroy the world, and the Six Stars were the final seals to his power? If he'd succeeded in killing Yasha – all the rest died – he would have been unstoppable. But for whatever reason, his good self was able to stop his evil self literally a foot from his father, and he went into a coma. And that allowed the rest of us to live."

Kisshouten is simply staring, unable to believe such horrible things. But why would he lie to her? She softly asks him, "So did your father survive?"

"Unfortunately yes," Tenou grumbles, hugging her a little tighter. "But my mother died, and it should come as no surprise to you that he didn't care one bit. If Zouchouten had died he would have been just as callous or worse than he was about Bishamonten. But my friend lived and helped me so much, and we saved Hanranya on our way out."

"And let me guess: your father didn't care if she lived or died either," Kisshouten mutters in disgust, and her boyfriend agrees, "And your guess is correct.

"I actually ended up marrying her," he tells Kisshouten matter-of-factly. "There was no actual romantic love, but we did have two children we each adored. She was a good mother and a good wife, so it wasn't _bad_ in the least. It was just, you know, sort of hard to be with somebody and know that both of you wouldn't have picked each other if given the free choice. But I needed a queen and Zouchouten said she knew what I'd been through, so that was that."

Kisshouten is silent, digesting all that, then hesitantly queries, "But wasn't it odd, marrying and sleeping with someone who –?"

"Loved and slept with my father? Yeah, it was," Tenou admits with a roll of his eyes. "But after that day, it was like she didn't exist to him, like all he cared about was his rule over Tenkai and now that he'd eliminated all opposition, nothing else mattered. Although, you know, it was so strange… after that day, he didn't have any patience for affairs of state at all. It was like – I don't know, I just get the feeling I'm missing something hugely important. But whatever it was, he never spoke of it."

Kisshouten asks gently, "So what did you do after that day, besides marry Hanranya?"

"I rebuilt," he says quietly, then corrects himself with a fervent, "_we _rebuilt: Zouchouten, Hanranya, Kujaku, the new Lord Ryuu and his brother Seiryuu, and the rest of the new Four Gods and Guardian Warriors. I couldn't have done it without them, I truly couldn't have, especially Zouchouten and Kujaku. We all leaned on each other, and since my father just sat there in his ivory tower, he didn't get the chance to kill anybody else. Although from what I heard a number of servants had an awful time, and a couple committed suicide after what he did to them," he adds in a disgusted mutter.

"Rape?" Kisshouten asks in solemn but not surprised horror, since Taishakuten's fondness for abusing the servants was known to her.

"Most likely," Tenou sighs in condemnation, then adds, "I don't know for sure. All I know is, he was a demon on the throne, and for him to stop committing genocide probably made him very bored. You know how he was, Kisshouten, just as much as I do. He enjoyed causing pain, that's a basic fact of my father, and anyone who tries to say he didn't obviously never met him."

Kisshouten murmurs her assent, then asks, "Your children… what were they like?"

A fond smile on his face, Tenou elaborates, "Kenda was the more outgoing one, like her namesake. Sometimes she reminded me a bit of my mother Shashi, the way she could play currents of power, but she had a heart of gold. I'm sure that when she ruled after my death Tenkai stayed on its even course, because I taught her that peace was a blessing, and war and intrigue a curse.

"Bhaanu was shy, like I was before I became god-king. I think he was even shyer than I was, actually. But he had the stargazer's gift, and once Hanranya passed away he became the new royal stargazer. He was happy with his lot in life, and he foresaw no problems for his sister during her reign. He never told me if he could see farther, but that was enough for me."

"I suppose you miss them very much," she says quietly, and he nods, "Well, yes. But I know I'll see them again when I die. And to be totally honest, this life has been so different and they haven't played any part in it, so it's really not _too_ bad. I mean, yeah, often I wish I had kids again, but I probably won't and that's okay. As long as I have you, that is," he concludes with a hug, which she returns.

Yes… as long as he has her. His birth mother could turn out to be a crack whore who'll demand that he support her, his parents might die, he might fail every class and lose his job… but with Kisshouten, he'll be all right. She'll support him if he needs her to, he can tell, but he sincerely hopes it won't come to that.

She kisses him again like she can't get enough, then grins, "Well, you know, we can always adopt if it turns out I can't conceive. I haven't hit menopause yet, after all. But unfortunately, it is true that older women have a harder time carrying a baby to term, and there are higher risk of birth defects. So many we should just try to adopt first."

"Cool. But we should wait until I get my degree," he says seriously, "because I don't want to have to be focusing on schoolwork when I should be focusing on a kid. Anyway… Souma and Kendappa remember too, and that's why they were so eager to meet you. And why they knew who Bishamonten was, obviously."

They talk for hours, all about Tenkai, and each of them has to admit that there are gaps in their knowledge. Ashura had one seal already, so did he kill his aunt Kahra? How did he get the Shura Sword? Why did the prophecy say one thing and mean another? Why did Bishamonten never explain his motivations to Kisshouten? What was the promise Taishakuten made, and who to? And for gosh sakes, who exactly was Kujaku? He was obviously "the someone who emerged from the shadows," but was he a demon or not? And if so, how come he was so nice and concerned with helping rebuild the world?

Finally a silence falls, Kisshouten leaning back against the couch and Tenou leaning against her. After a long time he makes himself say, "It's late, Kisshouten. Past 11:00. And I have school tomorrow, I'm sorry to say."

Unspoken, there is that instinctive hope she will say, "Oh but let me stay all night, Tenou." And in her mind, there is the hope he will say, "Please stay the night, Kisshouten."

But they are people with a strong sense of propriety. It's too soon to just hop into bed. She'll imagine him with her tonight and he'll do the same, but for now, she stands up, walks to the door, and gives him one final kiss before she farewells, "I'll call you tomorrow, all right?"

"All right. I'll eagerly await your call, Princess," he grins, then with a wave Kisshouten is gone as he stares after her down the hallway.

"Princess." That sounded more like a pet name than a title, and it brings a goofy smile to her face. She'll have to think up a suitable answering name for him. "Prince"? It's pretty obvious and part of his last name, but if she can't think of a better one it'll do.

She walks down the stairs in a happy daze, marveling at how one's feelings can change so dramatically in a single day. From fond but blind love, to wanting to break up with him because of her reclaimed memories, to painful sadness, and now back to clear-eyed and even greater love. All in less than ten hours! She feels exhausted, but oh well, once she gets home it'll all be fine.

_Oh, Tenou, _she thinks as she exits the apartment, _we really went on an emotional rollercoaster today._

_._

It's two months later, and things are going better than all right – they're going _wonderfully_. Tenou and Kisshouten are flying high, spending all sorts of time together and with Souma and Kendappa too, and Kisshouten has even gotten inspired for some beautiful, romantic piano music. She's collaborating with Kendappa on some of it, and Kendappa keeps laughing and teasing her about Tenou, making the former princess blush at some of the things her friend suggests.

Like, "You should tell him you have a little treat for him, make him close his eyes, tie a blindfold around them, tie his hands with a ribbon, and go down on him because a lot of men find stuff like that sexy."

"I don't – I mean – a _blindfold_, Kendappa?" Kisshouten had to ask, her ivory cheeks flaming pink.

The harpist grinned and chirped, "Yup, a blindfold. Souma and I play around with such things occasionally. It's fun! Or… maybe _you'd _like to be the one blindfolded and restrained, huh?" she asked a little too knowingly.

"No, no, of course not!" Kisshouten hastily protested, but certain parts of her psyche really liked that idea. Not that she'll ever tell anyone that, she thought (incorrectly, as it will later turn out). But the next time she saw a ribbon, she got certain interesting visions in her head.

Finally, one day as they walk down by the river holding hands, Tenou says abruptly, "Kisshouten, I think it's time you met my parents. This is, after all, a serious, long-term relationship, and I think they deserve to know about it. I've told them I have a new girlfriend I love like nothing else, but of course I didn't mention the reincarnation angle or the fact that you're an older woman."

She nods solemnly, and ventures, "Shall I meet them this weekend, then? I don't have much going on except our ballroom dance class Friday night."

"Sounds good. I'll call them when I get home, then."

And so, that Saturday evening after an early dinner, Tenou finds himself leading Kisshouten up his parents' front walk, praying to anything that will listen that this will turn out all right. He rings the bell with an encouraging expression sent her way, but he can't help but think that Kichirou and Aimi are in for the surprise of a lifetime. He's only told them he's bringing over someone very special, and as the door opens, he braces himself for some horrified condemnation.

Aimi stands in the doorway with Kichirou behind her, looks at Kisshouten, gasps, and smiles like this is the best sight she's ever seen. The pianist and her man barely have time to wonder why before she happily sniffles, "Oh honey… you found your birth mother!"

Uh-oh.

"No, Mom, no," Tenou awkwardly replies as she hugs him, and Kichirou beams at Kisshouten. "I don't know who my birth mother is, I haven't even searched. This is my girlfriend, Adeyaka Kisshouten. She's really special, and I love her, and we're taking it slow," he frantically assures them, as their expressions go from happy to horrified.

"It's so nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Ouji," Kisshouten smiles brightly, trying to make a good impression. "Your son obviously loves you very much, because he talks about you all the time. It's so good to see that," she says with more than a little desperation, as their faces get darker and darker. Heck, Aimi looks like she wants to yank Tenou inside and slam the door on Kisshouten, then lock it and call the police.

They all just stand there for a moment, Tenou and Kisshouten with pleading smiles and Kichirou and Aimi with upset, stunned expressions, until finally Kichirou stiffly replies, "Please come in."

They do, and Kisshouten notes with approval that this is a lovely home. Not as nice as hers but certainly a lot nicer than Tenou's apartment, it has a comforting feel and pastel shades for décor. A cat wanders in from another room, a fluffy gray one with big yellow eyes, and he looks at Kisshouten as if to say, "I am here, so adore me, new visitor to my realm."

"That's Nao," Tenou introduces him with forced cheer, crossing to the cat and picking him up. "He's eight years old. He's very friendly, would you like to pet him?"

"Of course. Awww, hi Nao," Kisshouten croons, and she can tell Kichirou wants the cat to snarl and spit at her. But nope, he closes his eyes in feline happiness as she scratches his chin, and he even starts to purr.

Tenou, trying to use Nao as leverage, tells his parents, "Boy, isn't it great how our cat is such a wonderful judge of character? He never purrs like this for mean old Uncle Taichi, or the noisy neighbors next door and their out-of-control kids. In fact, he never purrs like this for any of your friends! See, he can tell that –"

"That will do, Tenou," Kichirou interrupts in a supremely cold tone, folding his arms. "You may put the cat down and sit on the couch with your girlfriend."

They obey with more forced smiles, and the parents settle down into twin armchairs facing them. Nao, however, does not want to give up this new friendly human, so he hops into Kisshouten's lap with a flick of his tail, one Tenou could swear was a "Nyah-nyah" action directed at Kichirou and Aimi. Cats, after all, are not known for taking orders from anyone. Kisshouten is thankful for this vote of confidence, and scratches under his chin some more in her gratitude.

"So how long have you known each other?" Aimi asks with faux casualness, in an obvious ploy to see if Kisshouten took advantage of underaged Tenou.

But nope, her son easily replies, "Only since November, Mom. So yes, I was nineteen. She's a pianist and she played a concert at the college, then later we encountered each other by chance in the coffeeshop by Inuki's house. We were friends before we decided to date, so please, _stop _looking at her like she's a horrible witch taking advantage of a naïve boy. And no, we have _not _slept together."

The last two sentences were commanding, almost angry, and his eyes flash in god-king mode. Aimi and Kichirou stare at their son for long moments with their mouths hanging open, and Kisshouten can easily infer that no matter how old he gets, he'll always be a little boy to them. Uh-oh. Is there even a way to turn this conversation around to positive?

She tries yet another warm expression, and tells them, "I know this is a huge shock, and it's completely understandable. It was a shock for me as well to realize I was in love with a younger man, and I did try to fight it but it became too much. Really, we seem to have known each other for hundreds of years."

"Yeah," Tenou agrees brightly, risking taking hold of her hand. "Yeah, it's like we've been friends forever. And don't you want me to be happy? She makes me very – no, _incredibly _happy, and I make her happy too. She had some heartbreak just like I did, but we healed together."

More stony silence, until the parents exchange a glance that obviously means something to them, and Kichirou orders, "Son, I'd like to talk to you alone for a minute. Please excuse us, Kisshouten," he says with the politeness reserved for someone you want to be rude to, but are too nice to do that.

Tenou and Kisshouten now exchange glances, and his says, "It's divide and conquer. Dad's going to lecture me man-to-man, and Mom's going to attack you woman-to-woman. I'm sorry."

Kisshouten's says, "Yes, that's what it is. But don't worry about me, I can handle myself. I don't think they'll start yelling, so we just have to keep calm and repeat the sentiments we've already verbalized."

So Tenou nods and gets up, and the second he and Kichirou are out of sight Aimi stands up as well, making Kisshouten stand up too, and stalks over to her.

"He's a _boy_," the blonde hisses in disgusted anger, leaning in as close to nose-to-nose as she can get. "He's only twenty! You're what, forty? You should be ashamed of yourself!"

_He lived much longer than I did in Tenkai, he's no boy, _Kisshouten's mind snaps, but her mouth soothingly says, "He's really not a boy, Mrs. Ouji. He's twenty, not twelve, he's an adult. And surely you've noticed how mature he is."

"I refuse to let you take advantage of my innocent son!" Aimi growls like a mother bear, sticking a finger in Kisshouten's face. "He's too young for you. He's still in college! He still has some maturing to do, I don't care how much he's matured in the past year. He still needs to grow, and you'll stifle that growth! I refuse to accept this relationship, and I'm telling Tenou in no uncertain terms to break up with you, and that you're not welcome here."

That hurts, but Kisshouten keeps a polite yet firm tone in her voice as she replies, "I truly am sorry you feel that way, but I love him and he loves me. Believe me, we _want_ to be accepted by you and Kichirou, and I want you to know that I will never, ever willingly hurt Tenou. You also have to know that he's not going to break up with me just to please you. We're very close."

Aimi stares at her for a moment, then nods with sharp movements and mutters, "So that's the type of woman you are, stealing our son's allegiance from us."

"That's not what I'm trying to do at all," Kisshouten protests with great emotion. "I _want _to be accepted by you, but I'm telling you the truth when I say we're going to continue dating. We're in love. I want to be with him for the rest of my life."

Aimi sighs, long and sad, then looks the brunette dead in the eye as she promises, "If you hurt him, I'll make you sorry. He's a good boy but he's still so sheltered. So please, please don't be like that Kendappa woman and break his heart! He's infatuated, I can tell, and he's sensitive."

"I promise you, I don't want to hurt him. And he's much wiser and stronger than you know."

That's when footsteps can be heard coming closer from the kitchen, and they turn to see a flushed Tenou enter the room. Aimi thinks the red face is from embarrassment, Kisshouten knows it's from anger even though he's hiding it well. But it can be observed in the set of mouth and the tense shoulders, and when he speaks, exasperation can be heard in his tone.

"Well, Mom and Dad, you've certainly made a strong impression on poor Kisshouten. We're leaving now, thank you," he says in a deliberately polite tone, striding over to his girlfriend and taking her hand. "Have a lovely night."

She allows herself to be led away, tries one last smile and a mannerly, "Goodbye, Kichirou and Aimi, and have a good night," and walks at a stately pace down the front walk. She can feel their disapproving eyes on her back, and she can also feel that Tenou wants to walk faster. But nope, she keeps her pace steady and he's forced to match it.

They get into her car and there is silence for a long, long time, until finally she breaks it with a quiet, "Well, that didn't go quite as well as I'd hoped."

"I'm sorry," is Tenou's heartfelt response. "I swear to you, they're usually really nice, they're just – scared. And I mean, they don't know the whole story, and they never can know because they wouldn't believe it. And yeah, a twenty-year-old and a thirty-eight-year-old _usually _spells bad news. We just have to keep working on them and make it clear you're not taking advantage of me."

"In all fairness to them, my father in Tenkai would have been livid if he'd known I was in love with you," she reminds them both with a half-smile. "I loved him very much, but he really was incredibly overprotective."

Tenou chuckles a bit, then explains, "Yeah, there were all these stories I heard about Tentei, like the time he bought you a fine horse as a girl, then refused to let you on it because 'You'll break your neck, honey!' So you had this magnificent animal that begged to be ridden, but all you could do was feed him treats and groom him."

"Oh, that's what you think," Kisshouten smirks proudly. "I rode that horse whenever I could, just when Father or nobody but the stablehands were around. I loved Haya, and I was so sad when he died."

By the time they get back to Tenou's apartment, things are all right. Nothing like some happy reminiscing to chase away rejection! He invites her in just like he always does, but this time, something's different. When they're done watching a movie she gets up to leave, only to freeze at his words:

"No, don't go home," he begs in a whisper. "Please. Please, don't go tonight."

His meaning is crystal clear, impossible to miss, and impossible to resist too. She wants him, badly, and they've danced around this long enough. If they mean to spend their lives together, why put this off any longer? It won't be wrong, not in the least.

So she gently takes hold of his face, looks into his eyes, and whispers back, "Then I will stay with you, Tenou. Just be gentle, because I've never been with a man before, in this life or the last."

He nods, a bit surprised by that, but for the "this life" part, not the other one. She's told him that Bishamonten never forced sex on her like Tenou had thought he had, but she didn't tell him that her experience with sex here in Tokyo is zilch. That's kind of frightening; Hanranya was no virgin so he's never slept with one before. But he knows what to do, right? He remembers the tricks to pleasing a woman, so it will just be a matter of tailoring them to Kisshouten's particular needs.

"Okay," he whispers back, touching her face in turn. "It's just, um, I don't have a – I don't have any protection, since I never slept with anybody here in Tokyo either."

"Well, then the STD danger is nil, and I can easily acquire a morning-after pill tomorrow, then get on birth control as soon as possible. It will be all right," she soothes, pulling him with her towards the bedroom.

Tenou conscientiously closes the door behind him, makes sure the window shade is pulled, and tries not to blush. Sheesh, really? After all those years in Tenkai? Well… this _is _the first time he's going to sleep with someone he actually loves, so maybe it's okay. And she seems to find such boyish traits cute, so what the hey, blush away!

And he does as they remove each other's clothes, a little awkwardly but hey, it's often like that. Not everybody knows how to strip for greatest effect. And oh wow… her curves are _stunning_, better than Hanranya's and Kendappa's too. And Kisshouten for her part is impressed with her man's build as well: sculpted just like she'd imagined, and in the genital department, big but not too big. Good, good! Ooh, she wants to _touch it_.

So she does, gently pushing him to his back and letting her fingers trace his sex, only a tad hard right now but certainly beginning to rise to the occasion. He lets out a happy sigh at that, one of his hands going to heft a breast, soft and warm and heavy. They explore each other with hands and then mouths, switching positions every now and again so each can learn the other. And it's so much better than ever before, especially for Kisshouten.

"Okay," Tenou finally whispers against her lips, "it's going to hurt at first when I break your hymen, but –"

"Oh, I lost that cursed piece of feminine anatomy to the gynecologist's instruments back when I was sixteen," she sighs, recalling the overwhelming pain and panic. "That's probably better, actually, so this won't be nearly as painful. You have no idea how much it hurt, you really don't."

"No," he says honestly. "I don't even have periods, I don't know what it's like to have internal pain like that. But," he seems suddenly cheerful, "I think if we go slow, and I'm really gentle, and we take our time, you won't feel too much pain."

She nods solemnly, then impishly reminds him, "But of course you'll be making up for it, yes?"

"Oh, _yes_. Don't worry, it's going to be just fine," he assures her as he gently parts her ivory legs and gets himself into position. "You just need to talk to me, okay? You need to tell me what hurts, and what feels good. And go ahead and be as loud as you like, because everybody in this building is used to loud sex noises."

"All right. Go ahead, sweetie."

He gently pushes forwards, into the warm, welcoming entrance of her body, soaking wet and eager for this. The first second feels good to her, the second and subsequent ones feel uncomfortable, and the farther he goes the more that sensation builds. But he's gentle about it, going forwards a little then pulling back, then forwards again, slowly but surely getting deeper into her.

Soon he's past the point that would have caused her agony if her maidenhead had still been there, and he breathlessly asks, "How are you doing so far?"

"It's uncomfortable, it does hurt a bit… but not as much as I thought it would," she tells him honestly, and her voice isn't as strained as he expected. "Just hold still for a moment, won't you please?"

"Of course, Princess."

Oh, it's incredibly difficult to hold still when she feels so marvelous around him, but he manages to. He's infinitely pleased that his body remembers Tenkai, and he isn't losing control and coming too fast like a virgin male inevitably does. So for all he's in the grip of exquisite sensations, he is able to let her adjust.

"You feel wonderful," he tells her truthfully. "You're the sexiest woman ever. And I love you, more than you can know."

"I love you too," she gasps out. "You can start to move slowly, and tell me things to take my mind off the pain."

He does move, very slowly indeed, as he whispers fervently, "I love being inside you. You're so tight around me, and so warm, and so…"

And on and on and on, punctuated by a steady, slow rhythm of thrusts, and finally, _finally _she starts to feel good again. The pain is still present but it's getting fainter with every movement he makes, and the pleasure is building. No, it's not wonderful now, but at least it's not bad anymore. And his talking makes it better, his praise, his obvious enjoyment, his naughty sentences that she never would have expected him to say but boy, it's exciting to hear them. He's almost fully inside her now when he's not drawing back, and he _loves_ it. Too bad she's not having as much fun as he is just yet, but he can tell it's getting better for her. Her moans are no longer pained, and she's starting to move with him, bucking up to meet him and clenching her walls every now and again.

Finally, oh finally her pain is fully gone, and she can throw herself into the body-shaking wondrous sensations of sex. She tosses her head from side-to-side on the pillows, her face flushed and her eyes screwed up in ecstasy, her red mouth open and panting words _he _never expected. Her hands grip the sheets hard, her legs tremble, and her breasts bounce back and forth with each enjoyable thrust. Oh yes, oh yes, _oh yes_, she feels things she's never felt before, such marvelous things…

But it's not enough. He's still kneeling, he's not bent fully over her for deeper penetration and a deeper emotional connection, and she needs to hold him now.

"Embrace me!" Kisshouten begs Tenou with all her heart. "Be as deep as you can, let me hold you!"

"Okay," he gasps out, letting go of her hips and lowering himself to her sweating body. Their hands clasp together as he kisses her, a deep tongue-dancing affair, and oh gods _yes_, this feels even better! She flings her legs around him, crossing them at the ankles even, pushing him into her as deep as he can go.

Ah, that's downright fantastic! And it gets more so, amazingly more so, until they're teetering on the edge of an explosive joint peak. Sweat dews their bodies, their noises of enjoyment fill the air, limbs tremble, erogenous zones are on pleasurable fire… and then her climax makes that fire an explosion with the force of an atom bomb. She shrieks her pleasure to the high heavens as he joins her in her rapture.

Rapture, yes. He has never experienced such a powerful thing before, and neither has she. But as his peak ends and hers goes on for a little while longer, he desperately wants to know it again. So that's what making love to the person you adore is like, that's why everyone says it's better than casual or duty sex. He believed them, but feeling it himself is a different animal than listening to other people talk about it.

He pants for breath, shaking and satiated, and can barely manage to say, "Wow. Just… just _wow_."

"Yes," she pants back. "Wow."

For long moments all they're able to do is lie there, feeling the glorious afterglow and basking in each other's presence. But finally he manages to lift himself on shaky arms and withdraw from her body, then collapse to the side. She rolls with him, putting an arm around him, and they share yet another contented smile. She decides then and there that she wants them to be like this all the time, and by golly, she knows how to ensure that.

"You know… Tenou…" she whispers, lacing her fingers through his, "I know this is incredibly presumptuous and scandalous of me as the woman, but… will you please marry me?" she asks him with so much love, capturing his chin and tilting it up.

He's grinning like a fool before he realizes it, and as she starts to grin back he replies with all his heart, "Yes, yes, _yes_ I will marry you, Kisshouten," before he gives her another heart-thumping, tongue-tangling kiss. Score one for nontraditional engagements.

"Thank you," she whispers with tears in her eyes as they part. "If you'd said 'no' it would have killed me."

"Well we certainly don't want that," he replies with a grin, running a lock of her hair through his fingers. "It would be the same for me, you know. So, what sort of ring do you want? And will we be living in your house or buying a new one? Oh, we should make sure to marry in the summer, because otherwise I'll have to miss school for our honeymoon…"

They talk for a long time, cuddling and touching each other, and it's as if all barriers between them have broken down. He can tell her anything and he does, and she returns the favor. But eventually tiredness catches up to him, and he gives her a nod in response to her last statement, closing his eyes with a happy sigh. And then, because he's nothing if not polite, he whispers, "I'm sorry, but I need to sleep now."

"Yes, of course you do," she whispers back, stroking his bangs out of his face. Silence falls and soon he drifts off, but she stays awake, still marveling at all that's happened.

"Ah, goodnight, sweet prince," she whispers into the silence, then yawns. When she's through with that, she thinks contentedly, _You really are my Prince Charming. And right now, I feel like we have our fairytale happy ending._

_._

For the very first time ever, Kisshouten wakes to the warm weight of a man snuggled up next to her, still asleep and actually drooling onto the pillow, but oh well. Her arm is over him and he's at neck-level, and it's sort of an inversion of the stereotypical position for a couple to be in. But awww, doesn't he look so sweet and innocent? He's sleeping peacefully, and he still has a couple lipstick kisses on his face.

"Oh, you're so cute," she whispers in contented fondness, tracing an imaginary bindi on his forehead. "You're cuter than an entire train full of floppy-eared puppies."

"I like puppies," he mutters in his sleep, snuggling closer. "Mother, can I have…? ZZZZZ…"

Kisshouten can't help it, she has to laugh at this mental image: little Tenou begging for a fluffy puppy from a scowling Shashi, holding it up and pleading, "He followed me home! Can I keep him, _pleeease?_"

He comes awake at his fiancée's laugh, a little perplexed and a lot disoriented. Whoa, what's going on? Where are all the puppies? He blinks a couple times and focuses on Kisshouten, is at first stunned that she's in his bed, then remembers last night and beams like a moron.

"Hi," he greets in a whisper, and she whispers back, "Hi to you too," before she gives him a soft, lingering kiss.

Ah, the morning after… such a nice thing if it follows a meaningful night. After a mistake it can be more along the lines of "Oh my gods, what have I _done?!_" but this… this is "Oh my gods, I feel amazingly connected to you and contented, and like I never ever want to leave this bed or your side again. Let's suck face until we can't breathe."

Once they've caught their breaths, Kisshouten reluctantly pulls back with an apologetic, "I need to, um, use the bathroom. Please excuse me, it's become rather urgent."

_She's so classy, _he thinks in infatuation as he nods. _I love the way she words things. I especially love the way she worded certain things last night, even though those weren't exactly fit for a posh party. Oh well. It's nice to know she can be completely uninhibited with me sometimes._

By the time he's made her breakfast, him clad in his robe and her clad in one of his shirts, he feels like no other day could ever be this good. They're engaged, they had mind-blowing sex, the sun is shining, the air is warm, the food is tasty, and her smile is brilliant. He keeps sending her brilliant smiles back, even going so far as to feed her some food, and just when she's reciprocating –

A knock comes from the door, alongside a familiar voice calling, "Hey lovebirds, your old pal Kujaku has come to visit!"

"KUJAKU!" Tenou and Kisshouten cry in unison, bolting up from the table with breakfast forgotten. She starts to rush to the door, then remembers what she's wearing and hastily mutters, "Stall him while I get dressed, okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll do that," Tenou agrees a bit dazedly, making himself walk for the door at a normal pace, thus giving her more time to become decent.

He swings the door open with his heart in his throat, and Kujaku waves with a pleasant, "And what a lovely morning it is. Did you have a nice breakfast? Sorry for interrupting it, pal of mine, but I had to see you and Kisshouten. Can I come in?" he prompts gently.

"Well, um – Kisshouten is, uh –"

"Aw, you go ahead and put some pants on too," Kujaku orders with a wink. "I'm not going anywhere."

Tenou finds himself nodding before he realizes what he's doing, stepping back to let Kujaku in. Ah yes, those psychic powers. Kujaku probably knows exactly what Tenou and Kisshouten had for breakfast, and – gulp – exactly what happened last night too. The younger man soon finds himself throwing open the bedroom door, garnering a surprised shriek from Kisshouten, who's just stepping into her skirt.

"Just me. Sorry," he hastily apologizes. "Kujaku told me to get dressed too."

And so he does, and Kisshouten even waits for him. In his haste he forgoes his underwear and falls down while trying to put on his pants, but finally the pants are zipped up, the shirt is pulled down, and he takes Kisshouten's hand as they walk into the living room. Kujaku waves again, grinning at Tenou to beat the band, then focusing on Kisshouten.

"Hey, little sister," he greets as he swoops in for a hug. "Looks like things worked out after all!"

"I… _sister?_" the shocked Kisshouten manages, too stunned to hug him back just yet. "You mean you're my half– in Tokyo or Tenkai? If in Tenkai, then – then you should have been the –"

"No chance for me to be ruler," Kujaku sighs in a bit of a dismal voice as he pulls back, looking her in the eye. "C'mon sit down, it's kind of a hard story to hear. You too, Tenou. I'm gonna answer all those questions you always had but were too polite to ask," he tells him with a smile as he leads them to the chairs, as though this is his apartment and they're just the guests.

They obediently sit down, Kisshouten trembling a bit. A brother, like she always wanted. A _brother!_ Her friend Kujaku, her sibling all along. Why did she never hear about him then? Did Tentei not know? She decides that's it, and sends Kujaku an encouraging smile as she urges, "Please, tell us your story."

Kujaku says nervously, "Okay, I'm not some secret mistress's son, or some random human peasant gal's son. I wish I were, because that would've been so much better for everybody involved. No, I'm – well, I'm Tentei and _Sonsei's _son," he admits in a rush, and Kisshouten gasps as her face goes white.

Her father committed _incest?!_ But – but good gods, that must mean that he faked Sonsei's death, and Kujaku was the baby she was pregnant with. Kisshouten and everybody else were told that the baby's father was some random man Sonsei met out in the wild, "But he's really not important, sweetie. He probably has no idea she conceived. Let's say a prayer for her and the baby's souls, all right?"

Tenou is shocked as well, staring at Kujaku like he's never seen him before. Yes, dark wavy hair, tinted purple but Sonsei's hair was lilac, was it not? A pretty face, suddenly very similar to his beloved's. Pale skin, long-lashed eyes… Tenou can't believe he never noticed the resemblance before. But Kujaku had black wings and still has purple eyes, the latter of which were a mark of evil, so what exactly happened to him – what did he _do _– that cursed him with such features?

"It wasn't rape," Kujaku quietly assures his sister, and to be honest that hadn't even entered her head. "She initiated it, but he was no less guilty. She loved him with all her heart, but you know what he did when I was born, and he saw my third eye? He told her to drown me, and when she cried that she couldn't do that, he yanked her from the bed, holding me, and threw her into the barred cave near Zenmi. You've seen it, Kissh, when you were maybe eleven in human years. By then my mother was long dead – she lost her mind and killed herself after trying to kill me – and I had sprouted my wings to escape through that little hole in the ceiling."

Kisshouten is hyperventilating now, appalled and shocked beyond all reason. Her father did that? Her kind father, the best god-king before Tenou, the man who was even a vegetarian because he didn't want to kill animals, _he _did such monstrous things? She wants to protest that Kujaku is lying, but he has no reason to, does he? And didn't Taishakuten tell her, as she screamed at him with Bishamonten dead behind her, that Tentei's deeds were dark like his?

"I'm sorry, Kisshouten," Kujaku whispers, making her focus on him again. "I know it hurts to hear this, but it's the truth. He despised me as the embodiment of his sin – my eyes and wings were a mark of their unforgivable act, see – and when you were born Mother said you'd hate me too, so I never –"

"Kujaku," Kisshouten manages through her tears as she grabs and squeezes him tightly, "I could never, _ever_, have hated you for something that wasn't your fault. Even as a little girl, even if he'd told me you were guilty, I would have known you were innocent. I just – I j-just wish you'd told me then, and I would have helped you," she tells him with all her heart, then can't speak any more as he hugs her back just as hard.

"Oh man, Kisshouten," Kujaku says through his own happy tears, "you don't know how much this means to me, and how relieved I am. I love you, sis!"

They just hold each other for a minute, as Tenou tries to come to terms with all this. It makes a terrible, twisted sense, and he can never look at Tentei as the epitome of a good man ever again. When Tenou ruled Tentei was his model, but how can he idolize the former god-king now? How could Tentei even do it? How horrible Kujaku's life must have been, and how much Sonsei must have suffered while her equally guilty brother lived a charmed life of luxury – well, until Taishakuten came calling, at least.

"So Kisshie," Kujaku is saying as they finally break apart, "I came here to see your choice. I mean, look, you already know you had an equal chance of getting Bishamonten, but you made the free choice to go with Tenou. And I'm happy to say that's the choice I was hoping you'd take."

"So your little coffee blind date bore fruit after all," she smirks with a nudge. "Yes, Tenou told me about your mission."

Kujaku stands up, smiling, and tells them, "And I've still got others to awaken. I'm sorry to leave my half-sister and her man, but duty calls."

"Who else have you helped?" Kisshouten asks fervently, desperate to keep Kujaku here for a little while longer. "Besides Souma and Kendappa, I mean."

"A gentleman by the name of Haka Kumaraten, and his wife Kahra. You actually met Kahra here," Kujaku tells her with a wink, and Kisshouten thinks back but can't remember. Kujaku helps her out with, "The florist you ordered the red roses from? That was Kahra! She remembered you, and that's why she was surprised the princess was sending romantic flowers to our father's killer's son. But she refused payment because she wanted to honor you.

"And then, Zouchouten and Karura. I got those two lovebirds together in a little restaurant, as their server. Oh yeah… she did love him back," he grins, before Kisshouten can say something like she never would've guessed. "But she's kinda obsessive, and with little Karyou dead, and Zou having helped stop her from saving her, surely you can see why she put that love on the backburner.

"And then Kendappa and Souma, but you already know about them. And now you two! That's eight people, more than half my quota. I can't tell you who the other ones are yet, but I can tell you that my reward, if I get the rest together, is to see my Yasha again. Oh, I am _madly _in love with that man," Kujaku sighs in infatuation, as Kisshouten's mouth drops open.

She thinks back to her prediction, that of Yasha meeting a mysterious, enigmatic wanderer, and suddenly gets it. It was her own brother all along! Wow, Fate has a sense of humor sometimes.

"He was madly in love with you too," she reveals in a firm tone of voice, and it's Kujaku's turn to drop his jaw. "I saw it, in my Star Mirror. I mean, I have no timeline of it, but at some point in his life, he loved you as well. And I'm not just saying this to make you feel better, because that would be cruel if he actually didn't and I gave you a false hope."

Kujaku just stares into space for a moment, then beams like he's won the biggest lottery in existence, punches his fists in the air, and yells, "YES! Oh Kisshie, you have no idea how happy you just made me. In fact, I think this past fifteen minutes is the happiest I've ever been in this life. Maybe even the past life, too, since Yasha had no problem boinking me or being boinked, but he never said he loved me. But now that I know he did… YEAAAAAH!" Kujaku screams at the top of his lungs, making Tenou wince at the volume and Kisshouten laugh.

When they all calm down, Kujaku sighs happily, "Oh, the things I would've known if I'd talked to you in Tenkai, sis. I mean, I watched you a couple times, both as kids and as adults, and I guess I was scared of you in addition to insanely jealous that you were loved. I thought you'd freak out and hate me, or if you didn't, you'd think I was a liar throwing mud on Daddy dearest's good name."

"He still is my Daddy dearest," she admits with a sigh. "I mean, I know he did horrible things to you and Sonsei and my estimation of his moral fiber has drastically dropped, but I also know he loved me more than he loved anyone else, and he ruled Tenkai very well. He treated me like I was the most precious being in the world to him, and I know he's in Hell now, but I still miss him so much."

Kujaku is silent, and Tenou jumps in, "So now we know what my father was talking about when he killed you. But how did _he _know that? Did you tell him, Kujaku?" he queries as he turns back to his friend.

Kujaku considers what to share here, and decides that the whole truth is too much now. So he gives them a part of it: "I only told him I used to live in Zenmi, and showed him my wings and third eye. He figured the rest out himself. He was the evillest motherfucker to ever walk Tenkai, but he was incredibly intelligent as well. Of course, he wouldn't have managed to become and stay god-king if he wasn't smart, now would he?"

"No," Kisshouten and Tenou sigh in glum unison, and Kujaku chuckles, "But none of us will ever have to deal with him again. He's not part of my mission at all. Which, unfortunately, I've really got to get back to now."

"Do you _have _to go?" Kisshouten pleads, feeling very sad. "Will you at least call us sometimes?"

"I promise you I will. And I'll see you again," he vows, softly but pleasantly. "If I find Yasha, and even if I don't… I'll come back and see you two, even if I never return to check on anyone else. Because being accepted by my half-sister fills me with a joy I never dreamed I'd have."

They embrace, hard and with tears in their eyes again. Tenou feels a little teary-eyed himself, but in each case they're _happy _tears. There were far too many bitter tears, in Tenkai and in Tokyo, but for Kisshouten and Tenou at least those despairing days are gone. There will be hard days here, they'll argue and get mad, but every time, it will pass. They're in love, they always will be, and returned, healthy love is more than either of them had in Tenkai.

Finally the siblings break apart, and Kujaku shakes Tenou's hand as he assures him, "You'll be hearing from me regularly, and I'll try with every fiber of my being to attend the wedding. And if I can't, don't worry, I'll send you something! But now, 'tis time to say goodbye," he says grandly, then with a wave passes through the door – but they follow him.

"You guys just don't wanna let me go, do you?" he cheekily teases, but it warms his heart. He goes on, "Okay, walk with me down to the street, then. Boy… is it sure nice to be wanted!"

"I still can't believe Father did that to you," Kisshouten huffs as she trails her brother with her fiancé's hand in hers. "How could he? Where did he get the idea that it was your fault?"

"Don't dwell on it," Kujaku implores her. "Just be happy we're here, now, and we love each other no matter what he did."

They've reached the end of the front walk, and Kujaku turns to the other two and says, "One more hug each, then I gotta go. Oh man, you guys would fall over laughing if you knew who I'm gonna work on next! No, I'm not telling," he smirks as they open their mouths to ask him exactly that.

"You like your secrets, don't you Kujaku?" Tenou asks with a resigned smile as Kujaku hugs him.

"Oh, I do, I do, I _doooo_," Kujaku chuckles proudly, letting his future brother-in-law go and wrapping his sister in one last embrace. "I'm Mr. Mysterious! You should've seen how nuts it drove Yasha. Once, he was all like, 'Kujaku, I want you tell me blah blah blah, or _else_,' while he was glaring and fingering his pretty sword. Oh, I made that one, by the way, as a way to negate Ashura if it came to that."

"Psychic powers, getting lovers together, swordsmithing… is there anything you can't do?" Kisshouten teases as she releases him.

"Fly, right now. But hey, I could do that in Tenkai," Kujaku shrugs, then turns and says over his shoulder, "And now it really is goodbye, for now. Love you both!"

"BYE!" they call in unison, as Tenou slips an arm around Kisshouten's waist while he waves with the other one. She waves too, but Kujaku's walking off, turning every once in a while to wave back but soon blocked by roaming citizens. Kisshouten and Tenou heave a melded sigh, then grin at each other and go back inside, their arms still around each other's waists.

They're so cute together, Kujaku decides as he approaches the subway station. He's so glad Kisshouten chose Tenou, not least because it would've been difficult dealing with Bishamonten as his brother-in-law. But Bishamonten will have to make his own path, either alone or with someone else, because Kisshouten and Tenou are happy together. It's right, Kujaku can feel it. Free will is a wonderful thing!

_You hardly smiled for three hundred years in Tenkai, Kisshouten, _he thinks as he hops onto the subway. _But now, your radiant smile is everywhere. So maybe this wasn't what the Bhagavaana intended, but as for me… I think it's a wonderful change._

.

.

(AN: Of course it makes no canonical sense. I never claimed it was feasible! But I simply can't get behind Kisshouten in love with Coercive, Bastardly Bishamonten for eternity [I feel okay saying that since I actually like him, but you have to acknowledge his very real bad points]. So yes, I wrote her completely-OOC-from-earlier-events luuurve for the guy, but I kept wanting to beat my head against a wall. Submissive female characters are annoying enough, but submissive female characters who justify bad relationships and their man's horrible deeds are worse. She gave no hint of the latter two for eight volumes, and if she had I wouldn't have liked her at all.

"Nao" means "docile" or "esteemed" in Japanese. "Jukujo" is a Japanese term for an attractive older woman.

The next installment's much more realistic pairing-wise, and a lot angstier. It's actually my favorite, though, despite the whole "stripper" Tokyo angle to the lady. How's that for a way to reel in the male readers?)


	11. Gutsy

**Chapter Ten: Gutsy**

(Tenkai)

Aguni is still alive.

Her mother is dead, her father is dead, her older sister and younger brothers are dead too. Demons take no prisoners, and only the fact that she was out with the herd spared her life. Luck is a fickle and random thing, and it just as well could've been one of her siblings who was tasked with the cattle this time instead of her. She clings to her mother Padma's body, two days' worth of decomposition along with her face forever frozen in a rictus of terror, and can only think one word:

_Mama…_

She's far too old to act like this. She's twelve in human years, and logic would dictate that she burn them and go for help. But logic is gone, gone, fled at the sight of the ruined village and the headless headman. Shock has set in and hasn't left for nearly two hours, and if she could think she would wager that it won't leave for a further three.

The cattle are scattered now, left behind when she climbed up from the river and saw the plume of smoke from the village. They wouldn't have come near it anyway, as the stench of blood would have spooked them. She forgot them completely and bolted towards her home, seeing the carrion birds and praying that her family was safe… but they weren't. No one escaped, not even a baby. They're all dead, every single villager, and she's all alone in this world!

She does not register the sound of horses in the village courtyard, nor the tramp of soldiers. She does not register a harsh baritone saying, "Ugh. It stinks to high heaven. Gather the bodies in the square, we'll stack and burn 'em." She does not register the sound of many pairs of boots, nor the disgusted mutterings of soldiers encountering maggot-infested mortal shells. She does, however, register the sudden shout of "A survivor, General!"

She looks up, her eyes swollen from tears, at a pair of masked, turbaned men peering around the corner of her ruined house. She's at the back of it, the rest of her family inside, but her mother was here so this is where she'll stay. Forever? Maybe. Probably, really, if she were to be honest with herself.

One of the soldiers holds out a hand and coaxes, "Here, it's okay. Put that thing down and –"

"NO!" she screams in her hysteria, rocking back and forth with her burden, because Padma is not a _thing_. They can take her when they pry her from Aguni's hands, and she will fight them all the way to keep them from doing that.

The soldier who spoke blinks, and the other tries a soft, "Miss, she's dead, you can't save her. Is that your mom? She's gone, hon, and you're getting, uh, plasma and maggots on your lap."

Aguni stares at him with orange eyes, and then shakes her head vehemently and insists, "I won't let her go!"

Why? She knows Padma won't come back, she knows she's covered in gore, but if she lets her mother go then she acknowledges that things are changed forever. Far better to _pretend_, because reality is so painful it nearly tears her apart. If she pretends, it's all just a horrible, awful nightmare, and soon she'll wake up and everything will be all right. This can't be real because she can't handle it, and surely the higher powers wouldn't send her something she can't handle, right?

"What's going on?" an annoyed voice demands, and the soldiers immediately turn and bow their heads, one replying, "General Koumokuten, it's a girl. She's, well… she's clinging to a dead body, sir, and she won't –"

"Stupid child," comes a huffed whisper, then a ringed hand pushes the soldiers aside.

Aguni wants to scream, because this man is terrifying. Hollow cheeks; hollow eyes, black and pinpointed; and a sharp nose; a thin-lipped mouth turned down in a scowl. Clad all in black, long robes that he must be sweltering in, and a turban that's no doubt soaked in sweat. He sports a pair of triangular tattoos on his forehead, red as blood that match the triangular chin tattoo and offset the lighter red hoops in his ears. Scary, every bit of him, ugly and unnerving, and she wants nothing to do with this guy.

So she yells, "Go away, you creep!"

The man's freaky eyes widen in surprise, and the soldiers gasp, the first one hissing, "Don't you know who you're speaking to? This is the God of the Westland, Lord General Koumokuten!"

She just scowls some more, because he could be the king of the fairies for all she cares.

And then… Koumokuten smirks, "Kid, you're a gutsy one. The last guy who called me a creep ended up strangled by his own entrails." He moves forward, stopping when he's right in front of her, and questions, "What's your name, or should I just call you 'Gutsy'?"

"Aguni," she mutters a bit sullenly, clinging tighter to her mother's body. "Aguni of the Kali tribe."

"So, Aguni of the Kali tribe… you wanna let your mom go so we can send her off to the Land of the Dead?" he asks almost pleasantly, like he's having tea with a court lady. "We'll find you some non-gunk-covered clothes after that. And something to eat and drink, grief takes up a lot of energy and tends to dehydrate you. Whaddya say?"

"No," she replies stubbornly, and he sighs, "Why not?"

"Because…" She doesn't have an answer, and logic is slowly but surely starting to come back. "Because I'm scared," she finally says, and he cocks his head.

"Okay," he replies evenly. "But here's the thing: everybody gets scared sometimes. The trick is to accept it and not let it make you do stupid things. Like hug a dead broad you can't bring back anyway," he finishes, gesturing at the body in Aguni's arms.

Her lips tremble, then she quavers, "I'm all alone now. Mama said she'd always be there!"

"She lied." It was a cold, matter-of-fact answer. "Any parent who tells their child that is a lying bozo, because everybody dies eventually," he tells her firmly.

Her eyes fill with tears again, because blunt as his delivery is the sentiment rings true. But damn it all, her heart practically burns with emotional pain, and no living being can just brush this tragedy off. Everyone she's ever known is gone! She never even said goodbye to anyone but her big sister, and that was a quick "Bye" over her shoulder, not a hug and a heartfelt, "I love you, Pratapi." Had she known, she would've hugged them all and told them exactly what they meant to her, and dragged her entire family with her when she left.

"You can't know how much this hurts," she hisses up at Koumokuten. What does he know, this powerful commander? His parents are probably pampered and ancient, and will die peacefully in their sleep.

But he just nods and tells her, "Actually yeah I do, Gutsy Aguni. I watched my father get killed by a demon when I was, lessee… oh, maybe about one-sixty. Younger than you, you look – I'm gonna go with two-thirty," he decides, snapping his fingers.

"Two hundred and four," she sighs ruefully. "I'm big for my age."

"My bad. Point is, yeah it hurts, but you move on and," he gives her a sharp smile, "you learn how to inflict punishment on other ones. Make 'em pay. Or make _somebody _pay."

This gives her pause. Punishment…

"Can you do that?" she asks him, loosening her grip ever so slightly. "Will you kill them?" she pleads, suddenly thirsty for vengeance. For everyone, not just her mother and the rest of her family.

He shrugs, armored shoulders moving up and down under the robes, and answers, "Maybe not the exact freaks who killed your mom, but yeah, I can do that. I'm one of the Four Gods, after all. And really, train hard enough and any god can do it if they've got the raw power."

She thinks on this. She's always been strong, able to light things on fire as a baby when most divine children only learn that at age twenty-five. Her mother had a most difficult time with her, but thinking of Padma won't help her now.

"If I learn, can I kill them?" Aguni asks him earnestly, swiping a sleeve across her eyes.

He nods, "Maybe. You can certainly learn how to kill other things, though. Traitors would be a good starting point for you. There's an awful lot of those around, and Taishakuten is a harsh ruler. We can always use somebody who knows how to bash skulls in."

And anger is rising within her, the anger of a person who's witnessed horror and suddenly sees a way to make others feel just as bad as she does. If the demons can't be made to pay, _someone _has to be! The seed of evil was planted with Koumokuten's words, and it's true, making someone else hurt is a fantastic way to take that pain off your own shoulders. She knows this well, as she's a bit of a bully, always picking on the weaker and/or younger children. Violence is cathartic, and maybe he's just given her a way to grieve.

"I want to kill something," she tells him honestly, gently laying her mother down. "I do."

He grins down at her and praises, "Excellent. See, you're gonna be okay. Hell, kid, if you come back with us I'll put in a good word for you with the barracks manager. You're definitely old enough to start learning how to fight."

He holds out a hand and continues, "C'mon, there's nothing for you here. I'm not gonna take you under my wing and bring you back home, because my wife would kill me and I hardly know you, but I'll make sure you got a place to stay. Okay? You got my word on that, Gutsy Aguni of the Kali tribe."

She looks at her dead mother, looks up at him, and makes her choice: "Okay."

She takes his hand and lets him pull her up. He has a strong grip and so does she, and it's comforting to feel that on her hand, a capable sort of reassurance. He's powerful, he knows he's powerful, and he's going to protect her until she doesn't need protecting anymore. She vows that he won't need to do so for long, because she's no mincing, ornamental court lady, delicate and incapable of taking care of herself. She'll learn how to get along in the army barracks, and she'll make her savior proud.

So quickly fear and disdain turned to trust and a desire for praise. But can she be blamed? It's a basic fact of life that in trauma, a person will quickly bond with whoever has shown them kindness or even mercy, and she _is _traumatized. There's no way anyone couldn't be, save perhaps Taishakuten. But Koumokuten has coaxed her out of shock, given her a purpose again, and as his soldiers give her food and drink, he watches with a hawk's eye to make sure she's consuming enough.

Halfway through a small loaf of bread, she asks him, with her mouth full, "Do you have any children?"

"Yeah. Well, almost. My wife's pregnant, she's due in two months," he tells her proudly, like this is an accomplishment far better than making his position. "I'm excited. I mean, I don't usually like kids, but I'll make an exception for mine. I'm hoping for a boy, but a girl will be fine too."

Aguni nods and wolfs down more food, as he still watches her intently. Unbeknownst to her, he's thinking, _That's right, eat as much as you can, poor kid. You are one lucky girl I came by when I did, because otherwise you woulda joined your family. As it is, you're gonna have a much better life in the army than you woulda as a peon, trust me._

Koumokuten is not a sentimental man. Many would call him a mean, even cruel man, and there's a lot of truth to that. He gets no charitable, feel-good kick out of saving Aguni, but that doesn't mean he isn't glad he did it. She has fire in her soul, that's easy to tell, and he's always liked people like that. Granted weak, wimpy people are much easier to control and he likes that too, but every boss needs a couple strong underlings. She may just end up a foot soldier, but those are the ones on the front lines.

He finds her intriguing, in a completely non-sexual way. She is, after all, just a child, although one can detect faint swells on her chest and widening hips. But no other peasant, but none, has had the guts to insult him to his face like she did and not be afraid of him, and that's very startling and interesting. She's really something, and he wonders how that will play out as she grows up.

In the background, bodies are gathered and stacked, as per his commands. Women, children, men, all torn in some way. Random severed limbs and heads are gathered as well, and the pile of dead grows and grows, as Aguni eats and eats. She was hungry when she was bringing the cattle back, and that was hours ago, hours drenched in emotional pain that upped her appetite.

But she's aware of what's going on, it would be very hard not to be, and when she's full she shakily asks Koumokuten, "Are you going to burn them now?"

"Yup, we're gonna burn 'em now," he confirms, as she stands up and stares at her family, friends, and acquaintances. He goes on, "We'll leave and let it burn, and let the wind take the ashes, because waiting and burying them would take too long. So if you have any words you wanna say, you should say 'em now," he orders her, ushering her over to the pyre.

What does one say, staring at everyone she's ever known before today, dead and decomposing and never, ever coming back? What words does she offer the souls of her family and friends, when she's never returning to this place she's lived her whole life? Making a big speech is impossible now, with tears back in her eyes and her chest seizing up again, because this is it, the final break with everything she's known. She's off to a strange place with strange people, a world of danger… but danger found this little, peaceful village anyway, so no place in the world is truly safe.

She thinks for a long moment, then opens her mouth and says, in as strong a voice as she can, "I loved you, Mama, Papa, Pratapi, Sadhuma, and Arunima. I'll miss you every day, and I'll make you proud! I'll grow up to be strong, as strong as I can be, and I'll show everybody that I'm not to be messed with."

Koumokuten nods almost in a proud manner himself, and holds a hand up to light the pyre with his magic. But before he can, Aguni throws both hands out with an expression of agonized concentration on her face, and the whole thing, from top to bottom, suddenly bursts into towering flames like it was soaked in oil.

Fire. Fire! And suddenly there's a fierce sense of worth, of power, in her soul as she stares at what she did. This is a fire far bigger than any other she's ever lit, and though it took a lot out of her and she sags where she stands, she suddenly feels… happy. It's an almost _holy _destruction, a purifying flame that will devour the traces of her old life, and now, with her family appropriately honored, she can begin to move on. Now she will ascend to her full potential, and she can tell that it's a high potential.

She does not realize then that she will descend too, into barbarism and arrogance, but by the time that comes to her attention, it'll be too late and she'll no longer care.

Koumokuten just stares at the fire, then turns his head to look at her. Shit, that was impressive, for a kid with probably little or no magical training. Undoubtedly her strong emotions were the only things that made it possible, and she looks a little pale now, but still. He makes a mental note to get her some sorcerous training too, because it would be a real shame to let such power go untapped, not to mention dangerous.

She wipes away tears, and he thinks to himself, _Well. Gutsy Aguni, I can say with complete confidence that you are, indeed, gonna be just fine._

_._

(Two hundred and ninety-four years later)

It is a _glorious _battle.

A child, a teenaged boy, a ninja, and the Sky Queen wait on the sidelines, but the Fire God pays them little attention. Oh, but they will die! They will die soon, and how proud she will be! How happy Master Koumokuten will be as well, that his most loyal underling has succeeded where two others could not. How wonderful she'll feel, that she has stopped the Schism of the Heavens in its tracks, and surely there will be a banquet in her honor, not that she really needs one.

Death! Death to the rebel scum! Death to all who defy the god-king, just like all the rest, countless numbers of traitors put to the sword for daring to go against Taishakuten. She's good at killing traitors, always has been, because she is a rabid dog in her master's service. None must be allowed to escape or be shown mercy, because the only thing that stops future rebellions is a strong example of what happened to past rebellions – crushed, every single one of them. From the tiniest village to the beautiful cities like Kusumapura, which her master has boasted of, they all fell in fiery ruin.

And ah, Lord Yasha. Now here is an opponent who's a joy to fight! Handsome and muscular and very sexy, there's nothing better than fighting a man like that. Save bedding him of course, but that's not going to happen, alas. But really, she's having fun just watching him, and when she kills him, that'll be even more fun. And then, then comes the praise from Koumokuten, heady and intoxicating and arousing in its own right.

But she is wrong. Yasha screams an attack of "Yama Heavenly Wolf Blade!" and the sword cuts _right through _her deadly Blazing Flash, a shockwave of sharp doom lancing right at her and hitting her full-on. Split in half, arrrgh! Tormenting pain, agony even, and her flames begin to dissipate at their mistress's mortal wound.

Magic holds her together for now, but it can't hope to heal this cut. No, that was a death strike, and for Yasha to slice through her flame means that he is a _very _strong man, as she thinks even as she falls to her back. Never again will she stand on her feet, because this is the position she'll die in, she can tell that easily.

She stares up at the man who killed her, her life's blood flowing out of her wounds and her vision starting to darken along the edges. Yet it is an honorable death at the hands of a strong, handsome warrior, and it brings no shame, just regret. No, to be defeated by Yasha does not make her any less of a warrior, but it _does _make her wish she'd been stronger.

_I'm sorry, Master. I failed you._

Her master: a dark sun, the center of her universe, the one person she obeys above all others. Taishakuten is _his _master, but Taishakuten does not grin and say, "Great job killing those pathetic traitors, Aguni," like Koumokuten does. No, Taishakuten is placed high above everyone else, an icy, domineering emperor of the gods who feels nothing and wants only power. Koumokuten feels rage, and pride, and true enjoyment as an enemy dies, like that foolish Yasha tribe survivor who dared fight him.

And he must know that she has failed, so these wretched rebels don't escape. They defeated Varuna, and Vahyu, and now her… but they will _not _defeat the General of the Westland, she is dead certain of this. When he arrives, this rebellion is over, and their uppity heads are carried back to Taishakuten for display as a warning.

_He will kill you, Lord Yasha. My master Koumokuten will crush you until there is nothing left!_

So Aguni takes hold of her beloved sword, hurling it as high as she can. It ignites in the air, twenty feet up, and that's off a cliff. It will be a guiding star during the daytime, and thanks to her magic, it will burn for ten whole minutes.

"With this beacon," she grins, blood running down her face, "Master Koumokuten has been alerted to my death. His army will be upon you before you can escape. I only regret," she murmurs truthfully, "not being able to watch you fall victim to my master's stunning blade."

And Yasha will, she _knows_, because how can Koumokuten die? He is strong, so strong it brings her to tears sometimes all alone in her tent, because he is immovable. Leaving aside Taishakuten, fear has no hold on him, bribery has no hold on him, and _lust _has no hold on him. No… not lust, not for anyone but his _bitchy_, entitled, _so very lucky _wife.

But back to the matter at hand, she thinks. She has little time left, and she must impress upon these fools that their doom is forthcoming, getting closer and closer with each step Koumokuten's horse takes. Yasha clearly does not believe that he will die run through by her master's double-ended weapon, so she taunts, "Like your brother did."

The taboo child's eyes widen, the dark woman puts a hand to her mouth, the Dragon King gasps, Lady Karura frowns. Aguni continues, almost gleefully despite the pain, "That poor fool… Rasetsu, was it?"

And Yasha's eyes widen as well. Finally, some emotion from the stoic warrior, good. She smirks triumphantly and thinks, _You have the feelings of a rock, fucker. But Koumokuten will make you cry before he kills you._

"Did you say Rasetsu?!" the boy nearly shrieks, suddenly there and leaning over her with his unwanted, unclean little hands on her shoulders. "What happened to Rasetsu?!"

_Oh child… he was beautiful as he died._

She smiles evilly and tells him, "When he announced he was Lord Yasha's son, Master Koumokuten skewered him with his sword. The idiot," she purrs, her vision almost totally dark. "He had no chance."

_None of you do, because my master is stronger than all of you put together. He will bring his fury down upon you like the wolf on the fold, and he will tear your lives from you! You are all dead, just as dead as I am soon, and when he kills you I hope it's with the hellspawn, for the most painful demise imaginable._

"Your fate," she gasps out, blood in her lungs and now only alive through sheer will alone, "will be… no different…"

She can say nothing else, and it is time. But she clings to that last, tiny shred of life, because for once in almost three hundred years, she is suddenly afraid. Warriors, demons, legions and assassins, Taishakuten looking at her and murmuring, "I think you need to be disciplined"… none of those frightened her, because _he _was always there. Always, a black-clad presence for her to hide behind if she ever felt threatened, and more often than not, the one who ended those threats with a smirk.

But the Land of the Dead, or Hell, has no Master Koumokuten. He will not be at her back when the Bhagavaana pass judgment, or take her hand and pull her out of a Hell made of cold water that her fire is useless against. He will not come to her in a field of light and soft breezes, and tell her, "See? Eternal peace isn't so bad."

_I'm scared. I'm scared! _she cries in her mind.

And then an echo in her brain, as it shuts down all processes: _"But here's the thing: everybody gets scared sometimes."_

So she accepts it, determined to tough it out, no matter what they throw at her. Death… it is not so bad, in the end, because there's no pain anymore. And there is one thought, as she meets oblivion on its terms:

_I wish I could have seen him one last time._

If she could have, what would she have said? With her dying breath, would she have told him, "Master, I love you, and I was proud to lay down my life for you"? Or would she have said nothing at all, just grabbed him and given him a first and final kiss, a sweet and voracious action that would make her death much more pleasant? Would he have kissed her back and held her to him, or would he have been shocked and frozen?

It matters not. The most powerful of the Five Gods of the Westland is dead, extinguished from this plane.

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Miles to the west, a sudden shout of "General Koumokuten! She's found them!" makes him look up from his goblet of wine, his soldiers murmuring in excitement. He studies the sky, and yes… a flare of light, hovering over a mountain ledge, burning brightly and steadily.

_Nice __work__, Aguni, _he mentally compliments as he grins, tossing the chalice away. It clangs on the ground, spilling red onto the bare rock, but he pays it no notice. It looks like blood, and that is appropriate for this god, these soldiers, both in the past and for what's coming.

"We ride hard for it," he orders, striding over to his tethered warhorse. "Maybe she'll have killed them by the time we get there, but if she hasn't…" His smile would've scared a demon as he finishes, "Then Yasha gets a happy little reunion with Rasetsu in Hell, courtesy of yours truly."

The Sky God Rudra whirls his black cloak around him, his Earth God counterpart Deva doing the same, and agrees, "Yeah, Lord General Koumokuten. But knowing Aguni, you might not have to do anything."

"Maybe not," Koumokuten murmurs proudly, mounting up. "Remember the Ganesha tribe?"

Rudra and Deva grin beneath their face masks. Yes, they remember that nest of traitors very well, and Aguni's triumphant destruction of their defiant king and his two warrior sisters. Ah, that was a day for the annals of history, when the river ran red with blood and fire gutted the forest. That was a slaughtering day, for the Ganesha were many and desperate, but even their skills couldn't save them from her.

As the company thunders off, Koumokuten studies the sky with a very slight twinge of unease growing in his mind. He sees a signal and smoke, but no following signal of "I got them." Well, maybe Aguni just sent the signal when she caught sight of the Six Stars, and is even now slicing off Lord Ashura's whelp's head. Maybe they tried to run from her, and she followed them like a hound on the scent, because she's very good at tracking and pursuing until she brings her targets down.

But the unease only grows as they draw closer, and there's still no second signal. And finally, when they reach the ledge and start to gallop along it, he sees dead Westland soldiers, an awful lot of them. Some beheaded, slashed, or stabbed by sword; some killed by flame; some slashed by some sort of throwing weapon; others killed by water magic; and no doubt some hurled off the edge too.

But no Aguni. No rebels, no Aguni, no living people at all.

"Aguni's signal came from here," he thinks aloud, studying the terrain. A battle between two powerful warriors also wielding spells was fought recently, the rock cleaved and –

And then his eye falls on a cloak-clad figure, standing at the edge of the cliff, stock-still and facing away. But not Aguni, it's a much shorter person. A woman, judging by the jewelry hanging from her cloak. Hmm, a witness would be invaluable here, although he has to wonder how she didn't hear them come up behind her.

"Woman."

At his hiss of annoyance, he sees her start. "Did a man with a child come by here?" he continues, impatient and more worried by the minute.

She says nothing, just turns to look at him with a sad expression. She's pretty, very delicate-looking, elaborately braided fawn hair and big, soft hazel eyes. She's holding a lantern even in the daytime, and he sees no god-aura, no shine of divinity that Tenkai's gods can always detect. A human woman then, a short-lived peon with no magical powers whatsoever – basically a second-class being to Koumokuten's eyes.

_Huh. What's a human doing out here all alone? _he wonders, as she gazes at him like she's looking at death itself.

"Answer, you wench!" Deva snaps in his impatience, glowering as Rudra mirrors his expression. "Have you any idea who stands before you?! The General of the Westland, and one of the Four Gods: Koumokuten!"

_Heeere's Koumie! _nervous pride bleats, as he stares her down in turn. He makes nervous pride shut up, because now's not the time for jokes. He's close, he can tell, and if she doesn't talk he'll use any means necessary to make her spill her secrets. And he is very good at making people tell him what they want to keep hidden.

He murmurs, "You know something, don't you? Tell me everything, or you'll die where you stand," he threatens matter-of-factly. One more failure and Taishakuten takes his head as a consolation prize, and damn it all, something's _wrong, _he can _feel _it, and –

She pulls a small sword from her cloak, and he almost laughs at this futile gesture of defiance. Ah, humans are so blindingly stupid sometimes…

"You draw a sword on us?" Deva asks incredulously, as Rudra guffaws, "HA! What can such a tiny blade do?"

He starts to reach for his own blade, as the horses move forward at a signal from Koumokuten: _Get her._

And before they can she stabs herself through the throat, tears in her eyes but a smile on her face, the expression of someone who dies for what she believes in. She chokes, stabs herself through the gut as well, and falls, the lantern she was carrying smashing on the rock as its owner's soul leaves her body. Dead, dead by her own hand, without a doubt so they couldn't extract the information from her through torture.

Stunned silence from the troops… and a narrowing of eyes from their leader.

"You think you're so clever," he grits out, dismounting his horse with his weapon in his hand and thinking, _Okay, fine then… have it your way, bitch._

The rest watch intently as he asks her body (like she can answer), "You think death is in impenetrable shield? Foolish woman. I'll get what I need all the same," he smirks in anticipation, and his forces watch avidly, interested to see what he'll do.

He begins a chant, harsh and in a language no longer spoken except in spells, and only then by the most arcane and powerful sorcerers. His weapon, his precious and deadly double-ended sword with the detachable shield, glows with a light whose provenance is not Heaven. No, this is a dark spell, one Tentei outlawed but Tentei's no longer in charge, is he? Taishakuten will take any advantage he can get, and Koumokuten honestly would've continued his studies even if forbidden to.

The woman's body leaves the ground, floating in the air and dripping a drop of blood now and again. It's eerie, to see a person hang in midair, and even eerier to have it be a _dead_ person. He hears frightened mutters from behind him, quickly shushed but there, and if he wasn't concentrating on the chant he would have grinned with pride.

Yes, this sorcery, this power is intoxicating, worthy of conceit. Zouchouten could not do it, Bishamonten might falter in the spell, but Koumokuten has devoted years upon years to studying ancient tomes and getting necromancy right. He can even call upon hellspawn and spirits to come to his aid, something that never fails to enable him to win. His greatest strength is his dark magic, and he has no qualms about using it. He'll do anything he has to to get ahead.

And so he cleaves her body in two, to see her last memories in the blood that falls down. He observes a teary-eyed child with pointed ears, a man with long dark hair, four horses galloping off to the south… but no Aguni. Not a single glimpse of his underling.

"So she did help them," he murmurs speculatively, focusing on the task at hand. And perhaps, before her memories end, he'll see what –

And that's it. He sees himself, flanked by his men, and then it stops. Whatever happened to his most devoted minion, it went down before this little bitch showed up and let Yasha give him the slip once again. He whirls and lets her fall, incensed and filled with the fervent desire to take his bad mood out on the rebels. That Yasha is far too lucky for his own good!

"They're headed south," Koumokuten snarls, throwing a leg over his charger's back and kicking it to make it leap forwards. "After them!"

His troops obey, the sound of whinnying horses and yells of "He said get 'em!", "Yeah!", and "I love my job!" ringing in the air behind him, the pounding of hooves and the snapping of banners music to his ears. He glances to the north casually, out of habit more than anything else, and suddenly yanks his horse to a rearing stop, his soldiers faltering and almost skidding as they try to emulate him. He's seen something, something he'd hoped not to see, but he cannot deny what his eyes are telling him.

"My lord?" Rudra asks quietly, confused and following his gaze.

There, to the right, farther down the cliff's edge: blood and a black cape, long blond hair and dark skin. She's sprawled on her back, with an almost serene expression on the face that usually bears a disturbing grin or a predatory sneer.

_Fire God… Aguni._

She's dead, there's no way anyone could survive being sliced down the middle like that. She must have sent the signal as she lay dying. Now a sense of rage, stronger even than the anger at Yasha for escaping once again and at that _stupid _woman for killing herself, sweeps through Koumokuten. Aguni was his most loyal, most skilled, most _liked _servant, and a friend. Beautiful, deadly, eager to obey and happily following him wherever he went, she made him laugh, smile, show off at times.

And suddenly the thought of her not being there is almost unbearable. Who will be the one person he can count on, trusts, above all others? Who else will complement him so well, and make him wish –?

"General Koumokuten? My lord, shouldn't we –?"

"Yes," he snaps irritably, wheeling his horse back around. "The rebels won't escape this time. And Deva… you and Rudra will take out that child." He grins viciously and continues, "Lord Yasha must die."

As he gallops off, his mind vows, _I'll make him pay, Aguni. He'll suffer, rest assured. And I'll make damn sure each and every one of them is wiped out, in an exceedingly painful way. They're headed to Hell, and this time, no do-good bystander is gonna save them._

But the battle doesn't turn out the way he thought it would.

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(AN: "Pratapi" means "brilliant/glorious" in Sanskrit, "Sadhuma" means "veiled in smoke," "Arunima" means "red glow," and "Padma" means "lotus." I didn't bother to develop Aguni's family for this, but they'll show up in upcoming chapters of "35 Kouguni AUs."

I do realize it's very strongly implied that Koumokuten knew Aguni was dead, but he never outright says, "Hey, my Fire God's body must be around here somewhere!" so I decided to toy with that a bit. Also, I have no real idea what color CLAMP intended her eyes and hair to be. I have a mental image of Aguni as blond with orange eyes, so that's how I write and draw her. Maybe her hair's really pink and her eyes are green, but I like the fire tones idea.

If you reviewed this, you would make me very, very happy. It's nice to make hard-working authors happy!)


	12. Adulterous

**Chapter Eleven: Adulterous**

(AN: Guess what? This chapter contains a sex scene too. Yes, I know, how _dare _I write a not-handsome yet well-built man having sex? /sarcasm. Seriously, nobody's expounding on Koumokuten's face for it.)

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(Chuo-ku, Tokyo, in late October 2012)

Kuro Koumokuten, office drone in the Shinseiki Production Company, scans through yet another annoying memo. Standard company fare, and paraphrased, it reads like this: "We are the greatest production company in the country, and thus the world! Take pride in Shinseiki Production Company, loyal workers, and if we all pull together we'll make ourselves even prouder! But some of you have been very naughty, and the management is displeased by this. Do _not _take company property home, peons! Have a nice day now."

_Heaven forbid someone steals office supplies. Those staples are __so__ rare and valuable, _Koumokuten thinks sarcastically. _And oh no, somebody stole a pen, how will we ever recoup that loss? Wow, I guess if I take this rubber band home I'm breaking company policy, so y'know what, that's what I'm gonna do just to live on the edge._

He's just clicking "delete" when his desk phone rings. He glances over and picks it up with smooth movements, opening a spreadsheet at the same time. He's good at multitasking, always has been, and he could probably be doing three other things right now too if he needed to. Not that those skills translate to any sort of recognition around here, and definitely not a higher paycheck, oh no.

"Yes?" he snaps impatiently, then recants, "Sorry, I mean hello?"

"Darling? It's me."

"Oh, hi honey," he sighs almost wearily.

His wife never identifies herself by name, just a term of endearment and an expectation that he knows who she is every single time. Could be "honey," could be "dear," occasionally it's "sweetie" or "darling," once it was "beloved," but it's never "Koumokuten," not even "Koumokuten honey." He doesn't know why, and it's not worth the effort to try to change it.

"Look, Parvati, I'm kinda busy right now," he has to tell her, scrolling down his spreadsheet and glancing over at his notebook. "Is this urgent? You know I'm not supposed to chat with you at work."

"Dear, this can't wait. I have something important to ask you," she tells him, a serious tone in her voice. "Very important, honey."

He frowns and scrolls further down the page, sighing, "Sweetheart, can't this wait until I get –?"

"Koumokuten, are you having an affair?" she interrupts, sounding both nervous and strident.

He doesn't jump in shock, or widen his eyes, or knock over his coffee onto his keyboard. Nope, because this is a question that's asked a lot. It's routine, and a worn routine at that, so he just murmurs, "Honey, when you asked last week my answer was 'no.' It hasn't changed. Now what brought this up?" he asks almost indulgently, like he's humoring his paranoid spouse.

"Well…" she wavers, then rallies, "well, Koumokuten, you know my mother thinks you're acting suspicious. I mean, business trips and late nights at the office, and we hardly even kiss goodnight anymore! Those are clear warning signs that –"

"Now, Parvati," he sighs in annoyance, "do you really think I'd romp around with some slut while my darling wife and precious daughter sit at home smiling with no idea? Do you really think I'd break my vows like that? Do you really think I'd stoop that low, honey?"

Silence as she considers. And then a slightly embarrassed, "Well, no, but if you _are _sleeping with your boss's secretary –"

"Parvati," he tells his wife with patient amusement, "honey, you _know _I'm not having an affair with my boss's secretary. He's a _man_, and you met him at the company picnic. Remember? Shinji, the guy who brought that potato salad you liked so much. If I ever sleep with Shinji, I want you to put a bullet through my brain before the dementia gets any worse. That was only partially a joke, by the way."

She doesn't laugh at it, just sniffles, "But there are so many other secretaries, Koumokuten! And… and assistants, and other workers, and –"

"Parvati," he assures her with complete honesty, "I am _not _banging anyone in this company, okay? I swear to you, I don't get freaky in the mail room with a secretary, or use a conference table for adult purposes with a sexy coworker, or invite an intern to a love motel. I'm not fucking some hot young manager, and you can ask anyone here and they'll tell you the same thing. In fact, they'll give you weird looks."

She desperately quavers, "T-Tell me you're not cheating on me, Koumokuten."

"Oh sweetheart," he warmly responds, then lies like a rug for, "I would never do that. I'm completely faithful to you, Parvati honey. You know how much I love you, and I could never hurt the love of my life like that. Any guy who does that deserves to be shot."

She sighs, sounding relieved, and apologizes, "I'm sorry. I just get… worried."

"You got nothing to be worried about. Now remember, I'll be out of town the next nine days, but I'll call you every night. Sound good, honey?" he asks in as happy a voice as he can muster.

"Yes darling. I'll see you when you get home."

"Bye dear."

And with that he hangs up, almost grouchily. Then he glances around, and as he's alone, he sighs and puts a hand to his forehead, leaning back in his chair. Oh gods… it's getting harder and harder, and every time she believes him he feels like he's sinking lower and lower. He tells her how awful cheating is, and how he'd never do something that cruel to her, and he only tells her that to throw her off the scent. Lying to his wife isn't something he enjoys, and he loves her still, in a faded, prosaic, matter-of-fact and resigned way. The passion is long gone, but their daughter must be kept happy.

He glances over at a framed photo on his desk: the three of them, Tamara smiling between her parents as they each lay a hand on her shoulder. Damn it all, if he divorces Parvati, it would tear Tamara apart. It would tear _Parvati _apart. They would crumble, break completely down, need massive therapy and probably try to beat him up. They would scream, and throw things at his head, and bawl into their hands if he were to ever try to separate from Parvati. Their lives would be ruined, and they would heap the venomous abuse onto him.

_And how could I blame them? What could I ever say to make it better? "Honey, I'm sorry, but you didn't satisfy me in bed so I found someone who would. I love you, but she makes me feel truly alive"? Or, "Tamara, your mother and I are separating. I know I promised you we'd always be together, but dammit sweetie, we were living a lie"?_

_No. _

He flicks black bangs out of his eyes with an unconscious shake of the head. He's selfish, he knows this. He's a lying bastard, he knows that too. He's making a mockery of his marriage, thumbing his nose at the sacred vows of matrimony, and he deserves to be publicly humiliated and yelled at in a crowded auditorium for what he's doing to his devoted wife. But he still does it. Whenever he can, whenever he can't but can steal an hour here or there, he runs off to his exotic dancer woman on the side.

Woman on the side? That's inaccurate by now: more like woman in the center, but with Parvati blindfolded and shoved into a closet somewhere, still honestly believing that she holds the place of "Kuro Koumokuten's lover." For all her suspicions, deep down she still believes that he –

"KURO!"

The loud screech of his surname right in his ear makes him wince. He turns his head to the left, a nervous smile on his face, and replies, "Mr. Yakinawa. Hello sir."

His boss, who is the very definition of "bean counter," glowers at him from behind Coke-bottle glasses. Fussy and tiny even by Japanese standards, Yakinawa Taka is passive-aggressive and has a classic Napoleon complex. And as Koumokuten is well over six feet tall, he's the man Yakinawa loves to hate. Everybody needs somebody they despise, and Koumokuten fits the bill for his boss, so well that it's become an office joke: "Yakinawa went off on me like I was Kuro!"

"Kuro," Yakinawa haughtily snaps, "you were staring into space! Have you nothing better to do?"

"Mr. Yakinawa sir, I finished all my assignments early. I even finished my long-term –"

"And you think that gives you the right to slack off?" Yakinawa keens, his hands on his hips. "Kuro, you and your adolescent ponytail are a disgrace to this company!"

Never mind that Koumokuten works hard and has been unfairly passed up for no less than ten promotions, or that he has a bigger workload than some people who make more than he does, or that workplace harassment is _supposed _to be harshly punished. No, Yakinawa despises him and has since Day One. Why Koumokuten will never know, and how he can change it is beyond him, but all he can do is try to make this little bully leave him alone as much as he can.

So he picks up a file and tries, "Sir, here's the info you wanted on the –"

Yakinawa snatches it and slams it back down without giving it a single glance, with an unimpressed, "Kuro, obviously I've been too easy on you if you can be such a slacker. Kano!" he bellows over his shoulder, and a fat, balding man smiles.

"Yessir?"

"Kano, Kuro is bored. He'll be helping you on your pile of unfinished briefs," Yakinawa orders with a nasty little smile, as Koumokuten bites back a groan. Kano is a bully, a layabout, and Yakinawa's favorite, no doubt because he's even more pathetic than the manager.

Said manager sticks a finger in Koumokuten's face and snarls, "And Kuro, when you go to Wakkanai in two days I expect you to work your ass off! I've told Ms. Ashitaka about you, and she's assured me that she'll keep an eye on your clownish self." With that he struts off, a tiny captain having disciplined a lumbering member of the rank and file, one who's too stupid to ever be good enough.

Koumokuten sighs in resignation. He's used to this. Back when he started this job, he used to have lovely little fantasies of going berserk and shoving Yakinawa's head through the computer screen the man loves so much, but years of such abuse have worn him down.

_Here's to even more, _he mentally grumbles as he corrects yet another of Kano's stupid mistakes.

But he finishes this task, only to realize that he's got something else to do. Shit, why do they all pile the dirty work onto him? It's like they find a weak spot in the office and zero in, like he's the scapegoat when he could outperform them all, and does a lot of the time. But humans are like a pack of wolves – there's always somebody in charge, and whoever that somebody doesn't like gets turned on by everybody else, either out of opportunity or out of fear. Alphas get challenged all the time, but never by the guy or gal at the bottom of the heap.

Hours later he leaves work late, trips on the stairs in front of three snickering people, endures a hellish traffic jam, and goes home to his wife. She's a beautiful wife, which always makes him feel guilty that he has such a thing and cheats on her. But then again, you need more than attraction to your partner to keep a marriage running. One needs open communication, and no deep dark secrets, and long heartfelt talks, and they don't have any of that anymore.

Parvati, a career woman who by now makes more than he does, sighs at him and says, "Koumokuten, you're so late we had to eat without you."

He nods, not surprised at all, and sighs in reply, "I don't blame you, honey. Are there leftovers, I hope?" he queries without much enthusiasm, or expectation of an answer in the affirmative.

She nods as well and answers, "Yes. But just rice."

He eats his rice because he's too tired to make anything else, puts his bowl in the dishwasher, and climbs the stairs. Just like all the other times, just like all the times in the future, because nothing's going to change, he's sure. But at least there's something in this house that still brings him happiness, one thing he would never trade for anything else in the whole wide world.

That's exactly what he thinks as he walks over to his daughter's room and knocks softly, calling, "Tamara?"

Movement and the door swings open, revealing a seventeen-year-old girl who looks exactly like her mother (but with a different hairstyle). She beams at him, throwing her arms around her dad and chirping, "Hi Father!"

He hugs his beloved daughter, the one part of his life besides his mistress that is good, and replies, "Hi precious. Break any boys' hearts today in school?"

"No," she giggles, "no new ones."

He grins down at her and praises, "That's my gorgeous girl. I swear, Tamara, you could land a prince," he tells her, and he believes it like nothing else.

She smiles wider, and he forgets what a bastard he is for a while. He's tiring of her mom, but Tamara he will never tire of. He spoils her, she adores him, and he's more than once thought, half-asleep in the dead of night, _If I could get custody of Tamara, Parvati can go run back to her bitchy mother and it'll be just fine._

But of course, that would only be true if Tamara sided with him over Parvati, and she's not very likely to do that, not if she were to ever find out the whole story. She loves her mother so much while Parvati is quite invested in her, and he sometimes feels like if one is in opposition to him, both are. They're like a mirror, honestly, because they sound exactly the same and look like sisters instead of a mother and daughter.

That night in bed, as they both read with the lamp on, Parvati turns to him and says, "Honey… since you're leaving for Wakkanai tomorrow, why don't we make love?"

He shuts his book and murmurs, "Parvati, sweetheart, I'll be tired enough tomorrow. How about not, okay?"

She sighs, he gives her a peck on the cheek and rolls over, then wonders, _When did it get to be so bad that I can't even sleep with Parvati without thinking of __her__? …My life is fucked up._

_._

That night he has what he thinks of as a "palace" dream. He's in a castle, almost a luxurious fortress, with windows that face the setting sun and marble floors. Statues line the halls, statues of people in fantastic, exotic clothing, with poses that remind him of the Hindu sculptures he's seen in museums and pictures. Music floats in the air, and people in rich robes bow to him and step out of his way, something that never happens in his daily life. Clearly he's in charge here, and it's a marvelous and exhilarating feeling, one that always seems so natural in these subconscious flights of fancy.

"My lord."

"Sir."

"Lord Koumokuten."

It's a wonderful dream, very realistic, completely in his POV. He can see his hands, ringed, and he seems to be wearing long robes as well. Every time he wakes up he wonders, _Why don't I ever ask those people for a mirror?_ but it never occurs to him to do so here.

But it's a nice dream all the same, and the feeling of _power _he has is wonderful. All he sees is his, he knows this, from the palace to the tapestries to the people, because they're underlings of some sort, yay. If only a fraction of the power he has in the dream would be given unto him in his real life, but whenever he's here, he never wants to leave and it all feels so natural. It's so realistic that he notices flaws in the surroundings, like a crack in the wall or a statuette turned the wrong way.

He meanders down a hallway, passing more sculptures and tapestries, then pushes open a door on the right. A courtyard is revealed, with training implements and a man dancing around a whirling dummy, grinning as he avoids yet another blow from the thing.

He catches sight of Koumokuten, steps out of range, and bows while greeting, "Ah, my master. Isn't it a lovely day?" He grins almost proudly and adds, "The wind's picking up."

"Yeah. Yeah, it is," Koumokuten assents with a nod, watching the man flick a strand of wavy blond hair over his shoulder. He never remembers how when he wakes, but he knows the man's name is Vahyu. He's a handsome man, beautiful even, and it's clear from his bearing that he knows it. This also makes Koumokuten smug, that Vahyu is clearly inferior to him in power.

"Vahyu," he says casually, "let me see your gale attack."

Vahyu beams in obvious pride and replies, "Why of course, Master Koumokuten. Far be it from me to deprive you of the chance to see my impressive skills!"

With that, he gathers the very air into a seething ball, opening his hands until the thing whirls around him, then hurls it gracefully at the dummy. The dummy is torn apart in an instant, shredded so fast Koumokuten can barely see it, as Vahyu grins arrogantly and asks, "Exquisite, isn't it? Surely now you'll agree that I'm the best?"

"No," Koumokuten replies almost lazily, "she still has you beat."

When he wakes up in the darkness of 1:01 in the morning, he shakes his head to clear it and wonders who "she" is.

.

The next day, after telling his wife, "I'll call you when I get to Wakkanai," he calls into work, informs his boss's secretary that he'll be taking today off, and drives in the opposite direction of the skyscraper. Knocking on the door of the apartment he can probably find in his sleep by now, he waits consumed by happy anticipation. His mistress opens the door, blinks in surprise to see him, and grins like she's just been handed a lovely gift.

"Kou? I thought you were in Wakkanai," she points out a bit wickedly as she opens the door all the way, and steps back to let him pass through it.

"I will be tomorrow," he smirks with pride, walking into her apartment with his suitcase, "but today, it's you and me. Isn't that great?" he asks teasingly.

Gassenka Aguni locks her door behind him, a slight frown on her face now, and sighs, "It's never just you and me, Kou. It never will be, so don't lie."

He pauses in the act of taking off his black silk tie. She calls him by that nickname, has for years, and by now it feels more natural to answer to than "Koumokuten." He even thinks of himself as "Kou" much of the time, funnily enough. He's never had a nickname before, not even as a child, so maybe it's the novelty or something.

_My wife calls me by my given name, my boss and my associates call me by my family name, and she calls me by one syllable of my given name… and that's the one that's stuck._

"Hey, Fire Goddess," he blithely assures her, "my phone's off for six hours. I'm off the grid. So right now, it _is _just you and me. We can spend all day in bed, and I'll do that thing with my tongue you like," he offers, trying to distract her. Surely she'll leap at that offer and not continue this line of conversation, right?

She shakes her head, resigned, and mutters, "That's not what I meant, but you know what I was trying to say, and you're just being deliberately obtuse."

_I do, Aguni, _he acknowledges in the privacy of his head._ Parvati's always here too, and Tamara lurks outside the door. But why dwell on it?_

He just shoves it to the back of his mind as things get adult. She knows of his family (she hates his wife), she knows this is an affair, and he often wonders what she really, truly thinks about that. Aguni is no idiot. Her mind is sharp, a razor really, and she doesn't suffer fools gladly. He also often wonders why she lets him get away with this, lying to the woman he married and gleefully carrying on with a much younger stripper, keeping her in the shadows when she likes to live her life in the light.

Well, of course she likes the sex; he likes that too, duh. But, by now, it's an _emotional _affair more than anything else. Yes they get naked, but they take daytrips and watch sunsets, go out to dinner, dance in the living room. Sometimes he spends hours just holding her, trying to stay awake so he can watch her sleep. He never succeeds, because she falls asleep last and wakes up first, every single time. It's uncanny, almost inhuman, not that he'll ever say that aloud for fear of offending her.

A lot of things about her are uncanny: her insight, her sudden joy for no apparent reason just as he lights up, her intelligent forecasts of what he will do, her striking appearance. Her appearance, more than anything else, set this thing in motion three years ago.

A bored, frustrated, and irrationally grumpy Koumokuten hung up his phone one evening after talking to his wife, and suddenly slammed out of the office as various cubicle dwellers looked on, bemused. He desperately thought, _Dammit Parvati, we keep falling farther and farther apart!_ as he screeched off in his car, trying to somehow escape this sinkhole of a marriage with cooling ardor.

How had it come to this, where it was like they didn't know each other anymore, and when he tried to engage her she would rather talk about friends of theirs than them? How had his life ended up this sucky way?

A partier in college, he'd buckled down in grad school and landed himself all he had now. It suddenly crossed his mind that maybe revisiting that, that acting like a drunken boy instead of a driven businessman, might break the monotony. So, just to be a son of a bitch really, he decided he'd visit a strip club. Stupid? Of course it was stupid, and irresponsible, and immature to the extreme. But he made up his mind and walked into the biggest one he found, which had the classy-sounding name of Seibu-bi – "Western Sun."

He gave the various dancers cursory glances, deciding which stage to go over to. Standard fare: a disproportionate number of long-haired blondes, two long-haired brunettes, a redhead in the corner… and a brown-skinned Amazon (also a long-haired blonde) whirling around flaming batons.

Hmm. Fire. Fire was exciting enough, and she was grinning and obviously having fun. So he walked over and took a just-vacated seat right in front of the stage, idly reading the stage name flashed onto the screen behind her: "Fire Goddess Aguni." That first part made sense, but what kind of wacky name was "Aguni"? Must've been an inside joke, or she picked it at random. Odd pseudonym for a stripper, truly.

_So… why does it seem so familiar? _he wondered, watching her F-cup boobs jiggle.

He smiled, sipping his drink and feeling better. Maybe Parvati was getting more and more boring in bed, so what? He just needed a change of pace. He'd watch a hot babe take off her clothes and writhe around in six-inch heels, and feel somewhat more alive.

He felt so alive that he decided, when her set was done, to buy this exotic-looking goddess a drink, just for the hell of it. Dancers were encouraged to accept, because the club made a lot of its profit off the overly expensive alcohol it made you purchase. So he waved her over, bought her a Cosmo, she happily sat down and made small talk… and then she actually talked.

She was quite intelligent, and he found himself admitting, "The spark's gone out of my marriage." Which he'd never admitted to anyone else before.

She set down her drink at that, and told him like this was the most obvious thing in the world, "So relight it. I like you, Mr. Ennui. Go home to your wife and make her happy."

And with that she thanked him for the Cosmo and returned backstage, walking off on the heels that put her above his level by a full four inches, because she was tall to begin with. He watched her get farther and farther away, confused. Didn't strippers try to make you pay for a lapdance or a private show? This one hadn't suggested anything of the sort, she'd just toasted him and sighed, "Aren't you a little old for that ponytail?"

Well, maybe she was new or something, and hadn't figured out the monetary benefits of making men all hot and bothered so they commissioned her for some extra time. Or maybe she hadn't yet learned that if you were a stripper, you swallowed down your personal preferences in the appearance department and paid attention to any man, no matter how unattractive he might be. Sigh, and here he'd thought she actually liked him. Tough luck, but oh well, talking to her had made him feel better for a little while at least.

He went home, was unable to get her out of his head, and went back three days later after he hadn't been able to concentrate on anything else. She blinked down at him in what looked like surprise, and when her set was over she snapped, "Don't stalk me. I'll take you out even in these heels if you stalk me, that's a promise!"

"I don't wanna stalk you, Fire Goddess," he chuckled as casually as he could. "I just wanna buy you another drink and talk some more. You're interesting, I'm bored, you seem bored offstage, so c'mon. Anything you want," he offered grandly, spreading his palms as if to encompass all the alcohol in the world.

She considered him, then gave him a sharp grin and nearly demanded, "Tequila, vodka, and whiskey all together!"

His jaw dropped in disbelief, and then he drummed his fingers on the table and sighed, "Okay, now you're just trying to intimidate me. Another Cosmo?" he suggested, trying to get the waitress's attention.

But Aguni just shook her head, still smiling like a hyena, and replied, "Oh no, Ponytail. No sense drinking if you can't feel it burn your throat!"

He laughed, watched her pick up her drink when it came, and gaped like a moron as she drained half of it in one swig. Shit, this woman had a throat of steel; even he couldn't do that, and he was good with alcohol. She set down her glass, smirking, and chuckled pridefully, "You didn't believe me, did you, Ponytail?"

"Lady, I have a name," he reminded her a bit huffily. "I told you that earlier."

"Yes, 'Kuro Koumokuten'… now there's a contrived name if I ever heard one," she purred, picking up her glass again. "Dark Heavenly King of the West?" she asked with near-palpable sarcasm, arching a perfect brow and completely convinced that he was pulling her leg.

_Yeah, the dark Heavenly King of the West… I mean, no! Just a mother with an ambitious taste in baby names, _he hastily thought, confused as to where that first sentence had come from. To cover it up, he picked up his beer and sniped, "Yeah, 'Fire Goddess Aguni'? I bet your actual name's, I dunno, Satou Yuki. Something boring and super common you think isn't sexy enough, so you changed it for the stage to something exotic and intriguing."

"Aguni is my real name," she told him, shrugging and apparently now unconcerned that he might be stalking her. "It's from the Indian 'Agni.' "

He studied her. She _was _dark-skinned, and her hair was probably bleached so who knew what color it really was. Hey, maybe those orange irises were actually her real ones instead of contacts, as that part of the world had such exotic women that anything was possible. India and the Middle East were, after all, lands of historical mixed races.

So he lifted his glass in a salute, and with exaggerated respect he apologized, "Sorry, apsara."

She stared, then started to laugh. When she calmed down, she smirked, "Heavenly dancer? What are you, some sort of hedonistic monk?" she asked, envisioning him chanting sutras and fiddling with prayer beads at home in a monastery.

"Nope," he grinned proudly, "I'm a businessman. I've been a businessman since college, and it's all I've ever done with my life. Well, I mean, besides get married and have a daughter."

"A businessman with a ponytail." She had a hard time believing that, and gave him an "Uh-huh" look as she continued, "You are without a doubt the most unprofessional-looking businessman I've seen in my entire life. Cut your hair and you'd actually look the part. As it is, you look like you long to be a rock star or an artist of some stripe or another."

"I like it," was his nonchalant, shrugged response. "I don't think I look right without it."

This was true, unless his hair was wrapped up in a towel like a turban, in which case it felt damn right for some inexplicable reason. When he was little his big sister would call him "Lawrence of Arabia" because he kept putting it up like that, until finally he reached age six and realized that such headgear wasn't normal. He still thought he looked good with a turban, though, and had once been a Muslim for a Halloween party.

Aguni reached out suddenly and tugged his ponytail hard, grinning like she was a little kid who'd been given a new toy, and merrily proclaiming, "Gotcha!"

"Hey!" he yelped, higher than he would've liked. Ow, that hurt. Nobody had pulled his hair since Tamara was three, because she'd been fascinated by her daddy's long ponytail that was just so intriguing, and right there to touch. Geez, this lady had no respect for personal space, he thought as he glared at her, rubbing his scalp.

Aguni just grinned some more and laughed, "You're funny, Kou, if that is your real name. That's what I'll call you, anyway!"

"Oh I'm _so _glad I can entertain you," he drawled sarcastically. "Really, I am. My purpose in life is to amuse women who take their clothes off for cash."

"Snarky," she sighed, lounging back in her chair and rolling her eyes heavenwards. Then she drained her drink and continued, "Such tactics hide a frightened soul, it's _so_ obvious! To me if not to you and everybody else. What are you so afraid of, Kou?"

"Lady," he snapped, index finger in her face, "you are insane. I eat incompetent store clerks for breakfast, and I used to rock-climb on cliffs with no fear and no harness. I got jumped in an alley once and sent the mugger to the hospital, and he even had a knife. I think I'm pretty unfrightened, thank you," he proclaimed, then sat back and crossed his arms in an almost sullen manner.

She tilted her head to the side, gave him a smile so slight it was barely there, and murmured, "And that's why you run away from your wife to a strip club."

He opened his mouth to form a witty retort, and couldn't come up with one. She just nodded and stood up, setting the glass down and giving him a serious look. For a moment they just gazed at each other, him slightly defensive and her so knowingly it was unnerving, like she was poking at parts of his psyche that he never poked at or even examined himself. Like she knew him better than he did. And maybe she _did _know that part of a man's soul, having seen so many patrons here with the same old story.

"Go home to your wife, Mr. Rock-Climbing Businessman," she exhorted as she walked off.

She said something like that each time. And she was familiar and exotic, harsh and comfortable, hypnotically attractive and terrifyingly strange, all at the same time. He kept thinking of her, all the time, no matter where he was and what he was doing, like she'd occupied his mind and refused to be evicted. He started to have the palace dreams after the fourth time he talked with her, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why he spent so much time hanging around her club.

Well, okay, he did have an inkling: she was sexually desirable. He kept having other, more mundane dreams where he screwed her on the stage with no one else around, or she sucked him off behind a closed door in his house or office, or she popped up and the rest of the world kind of faded away when they had sex, which was standard for dreams like that. He thought of her alone in the shower, and when Parvati was gone at night, and when he thought of her with his wife for the second time, he made himself sit down and think.

He liked her a lot, and she was beautiful. Maybe too much of an Amazon for most men to pick over the delicate Parvati, but somehow it fit her. Tall, buff, with high cheekbones and almost broad-shouldered, Aguni nevertheless had huge, firm breasts and a slender waist, wide hips, crimson lips, and long sculpted legs that might drive some men to glorious insanity. Her poofy hair was a little weird, and it almost reminded him of some guy's but much longer, but that too seemed perfect for such a woman. She was just… unique, like he'd never find another woman like her in the whole wide world even if they had the same coloring, which he had to admit he found very, very attractive.

Finally, two months after that, he asked her as her shift was about to end, "Hey… you wanna maybe get outta here and have a drink somewhere else?" It was a casual sentence, but the meaning behind it wasn't casual at all, he knew that very well.

Aguni looked at him for long moments, turned her concentration inwards, then nodded and agreed, "All right, Kou. Let me go get dressed."

She went back to her dressing room, and he stared into space. So, he'd just asked out an exotic dancer, while his wife sat at home with his daughter. He should've felt very bad about that, he should've felt like scum. But instead, he grinned. He felt… _alive. _Like he'd been waiting to take her out for a long, long time, which of course made no sense, as it had only been a little over four months. And really, he thought, she would probably just finish her drink and tell him, "Go home to your wife, Kou, and don't buy strippers drinks in a bar."

But she didn't, not this time. She laughed and told jokes and made the time fly by, wearing a hoodie over a miniskirt and the same stripper heels. And then, she looked him in the eye after an hour had passed and said, like this was the most inevitable thing in the world, "You might as well come home with me."

He was somewhat stunned by such assertiveness, before logic and protective walls clamped down again, and he awkwardly told her, "Look, um, I don't wanna _pay _for it. I mean, if you're gonna charge me I'll just –"

"I am not a _prostitute!_" she hissed, her eyes twin flames. "Don't insult me!"

He looked at her, confused, and quietly asked, "Okay, then why so forward? I mean, maybe I really did wanna just buy you a drink," he tried, more for the appearance of propriety than anything else.

She shook her head and sighed, "No. You brought protection, I know you did. You've wanted this since you saw me."

Maybe he had. Maybe it had been heading here since he'd told Parvati, "Honey, I'll be home late tonight, I'm finishing up a proposal," and gone down to the strip club so he wouldn't have to go home. Maybe any stripper who'd caught his fancy would've been a target for such a thing. Maybe this was just coincidental that he felt so attracted to this particular beautiful woman. Or maybe not, but whatever it was, it was here and he was acting on it, like some sort of moth drawn to Aguni's dangerous flame.

So he sighed, admitting, "Yes. I did bring protection. Aguni, you're just… you're really something, okay?"

She put her hand on his shoulder and smirked, "I know I am. Finish your drink and let's go!"

He shoved his sake away, muttering, "Nah, it was watered down anyway. So, Fire Goddess, where do you live?" he asked as he stood up and they walked to the door.

He was convinced every single observer knew exactly what was going on, but fuck it. They could all go to hell, each and every single one of them, because they weren't in his shoes and had no right to judge.

Once outside, she nodded at a dreary-looking apartment building down the street and told him, "I live right there on the second floor. It's small, but there's only me. I don't even have a fish in a bowl," she smirked almost proudly, like having nothing to love made you somehow a stronger person than everybody else.

He blinked in surprise at her statement, and murmured, "Huh. Bar, job, and digs all in the same three blocks. Bet you save a fortune on transportation."

"Yes indeed, I save a ton of money."

She walked off quickly, and he hurried to catch up, suddenly nervous about what they were about to do. Cheating on Parvati with a stripper… part of him felt guilty already, but the rest of him shut that part up and rationalized the whole thing as, "I want her, why can't I have what I really want for once?" It wasn't like this hadn't happened a billion times before, all over the world, all throughout history, ever since humans who weren't even fully human yet had screwed around with someone who wasn't their mate.

"Look, I have to be home by midnight, or my wife will get suspicious," he told Aguni as simply as he could, matching her pace now as traffic roared beside them.

"Your wife," she murmured knowingly, but didn't say anything else.

He waited for more, but she said nothing, just opened the outer doors and led him inside. It wasn't a squalid little apartment building but it was definitely cheap, and he suddenly felt sad that someone like her had to live somewhere like this. Aguni, he felt, should be living in some comfortable house with severe designer furniture and big windows that let the sun in, somewhere that matched her personality, maybe with a big fireplace because she was so good with those flaming batons.

But that was soon driven out of his mind. She unlocked her door, and led him through the living room and into the tiny bedroom. But it was a clean, tidy tiny bedroom, with a neatly-made bed that he irrationally felt bad that he was about to mess up. Maybe that was his subconscious redirecting the guilt, but it didn't stop him from stripping down as she did the same, her much more enticingly than him, for obvious reasons.

"You have really, _really _nice boobs," he told her honestly as he hefted and toyed with them, his fingers tweaking the dark peaks and making her moan happily. "And real, too. Damn, baby, and here I thought they were implants."

"Everything on my perfect body is genuine!" she bragged with obvious pride, then skimmed a hand down his torso to his shaft as she purred, "And speaking of perfect bodies, Kou… I figured yours was good, but I didn't know it was – ahhh… _this _good."

That was when they fell back onto the bed, Koumokuten under Aguni. Hey, that was totally cool with him, since Parvati never wanted to be on top and he liked when women took charge. Occasionally he'd convince his wife to mount him, but she never seemed to be very enthusiastic and wasn't that good at it. Well, if he was lucky Aguni would ride him, and he had the sense that she was an expert cowgirl.

"Oh yes," she whispered against his neck as her hand stroked away, "you _liiiike _that."

"Oh _fuck _yeah," was his breathless, excited response, because she was already better than his wife with such expert hand technique.

Soon she had put her mouth on him, expert and eager again, and for a minute there he thought he'd be fine if she just blew him. She knew exactly what to do, she could handle much more than Parvati too, and she was making happy little noises as she sucked away. But before he got too far gone she pulled off, and told him seriously, "You'd better get that condom on now, I can't wait much longer!"

"Yeah. Okay. It's in my left pants pocket," he gasped, and as she went to retrieve it, he wrestled with the "I'm Horny, Forget the Stupid Condom" demon.

But even if the demon had won, Aguni wouldn't have let him inside her without protection. She was smart; just because he was married didn't mean he hadn't picked something up from some other stripper he'd fucked, or that his wife hadn't picked something up from someone she was cheating with, or – yes, too many chances for an STD. Aguni had no desire to contract one of those. Later in their relationship she would trust him enough to do it bareback, but for now, she made damn sure to roll that thing on.

"Ooh, Kou," she grinned in anticipation as she straddled him, "I can already tell that's going to feel _very _good. The bigger, the better!"

He smirked as she got herself into position, and without any warning just plunged all the way down, wow. All at once like that? _Damn_, that was impressive. He certainly wasn't small, but she handled him like it was no big deal. Which probably meant that she'd slept with massive guys before him, but he really couldn't think too much about that right then.

"Ahhh… I was right," she said in a singsong voice, starting to bounce up and down. "So tell me, Kou, how does it feel for _you?_"

He told her exactly what it felt like for him, using vocabulary and phrases Parvati would have been shocked to hear. Then again, she didn't like dirty talk, but Aguni seemed to love it. She grinned and moved and said some explicit things back to him, as his hands gripped her waist and hers gripped his. Yup, she was an expert cowgirl indeed. And it was nearly desperate and hungry, exciting like nothing before, for him.

It was very good, much better than with Parvati lately – for years, really. Hell, ever since Tamara had been born, Parvati's appetite for such things had been falling behind his, and recently she initiated it quite infrequently. Oftentimes she said "no" to his advances, and that was that, no sex for poor Koumokuten. But _Aguni _wasn't like that, and she was eager, vocal, and obviously having a lot of fun, unless she was faking it of course.

If she _was_ faking she was doing a masterful job, her words breaking off into incoherent gasps and groans, her nails leaving lines on his hips that he would later regret, and make sure to hide from his wife. At the time it was arousing, a demonstration of her enjoyment, and when she came hard before he did he felt proud. Then his own explosive climax began, and he just felt ecstasy. It wasn't quite as good as it could have been, if he hadn't had that condom, but this was still a helluva of a lot bigger orgasm than with his wife for the past ten or so years.

When it was all gloriously over, and after he'd caught his breath, he muttered into her neck, "Wow… you really are a goddess, aren't you."

She said nothing, just hugged him and sighed. For a few minutes they just lay there, breath evening out and fatigue stalking through her body. Rigorous? Yes, yes it _had _been rigorous, and that too was good. She'd rather be tired after great sex than wide-awake after mediocre sex. And she was comfortable to him, her body firmer than his wife's but soft where it should have been, so it was no wonder that all he wanted to do was roll to the side with her in his arms and drift off.

But he didn't, as he glanced over at the clock and realized what time it was. He had less than forty-five minutes to get back, and there wasn't a moment to waste. If he came back too late Parvati would demand to know where he'd been, and undoubtedly not believe any lie he told. Hell, she'd probably search him for hair a different color than hers, and have him take his shirt off so she could look for love bites or the damning scratches he bore. Yes, it was absolutely imperative that he avoid arousing those suspicions.

"I'm sorry, but I gotta go," he reluctantly told Aguni, as she idly twirled a strand of long black hair around her finger. "You know, the midnight thing."

"Yes, I do know the midnight thing," she agreed in a murmur, as he got up with unsteady legs.

As he disposed of the condom, it belatedly hit him that this probably wasn't a new experience for her, screwing a strip club patron and having him run off before his spouse became suspicious. But damn it all, despite that he felt like… like it didn't really matter, and she was special enough that he was willing to overlook it. She liked him, that was plain to see, and the thought of never seeing her again made his heart sink. She really was something, and no matter how wrong this was, he wanted it to continue.

But she seemed to think, as he opened the door to go, that this was the end.

"Goodbye, Kou. Now make sure you treat your wife well," she said solemnly, robe-clad and barefoot, gazing at him with a melancholy light in her eyes.

He paused, turning back to her, and offered, "Aguni… you maybe wanna… have dinner on Thursday?"

She stared, he smiled, nervous and cocky all at once, and then she smiled right back and replied, "Okay then!"

And so it went. So now here he is, trying to stay awake again so he can watch her while she sleeps, his wife oblivious and Tamara at school, no doubt bragging to her friends, "_My _dad bought me this or that!" Both of them lied to and loving him, firmly believing that he's in Wakkanai and not in the bed of another, younger, blonder, browner, fitter, and more sexual woman. They don't know, and they never _can _know, and where this is going he doesn't really want to find out, because no matter how it ends it's going to bring pain of one kind or another.

But enough of that. He's here with Aguni, and it feels warm and comforting and perfect, such a contrast to so much of the rest of his life. It's good to be here, and he knows he'll never willingly give this affair up, not of his own volition. It's… it's… well, it's something, but he's too tired now to think of what it is.

Koumokuten sighs as Aguni traces patterns on his forehead, his eyes dropping closed. Dammit, she beat him again…

.

When he wakes up the next morning she's already awake, lying on her stomach with her cheek laid onto crossed arms, just watching him like she always does. It might have been unnerving to some people, but he finds it flattering. After all, attention is attention, and he usually only gets negative attention from anyone but Tamara and Parvati, and of course Aguni herself. It's nice to be watched by a babe, one who always has a rather gentle look in her eyes when she does it in bed like this.

He yawns and greets, "Good morning, Fire Goddess. Have any nice dreams?" he asks as he runs his hand through his loose hair, not really expecting an affirmative answer.

"Yes."

She sounds confused, almost afraid of something, and he leans over and lays a hand on her bare back, as always pleased by the contrast of her brown skin against his own peach.

"If they were nice, why do you sound upset?" he asks quietly.

It's odd, and suddenly he feels protective of her, which makes no sense. How can you protect someone from dreams? Dreams are personal things, and she probably wouldn't accept his protection anyway.

She sighs, keeping her position as he throws the covers off and gets up, having gotten no response. Fine, if she doesn't want to talk when he was being all sensitive, be that way. Whoever said women like a man who's not afraid of his feelings obviously never met this woman. She's almost like a man in personality, except she likes wearing female clothes and makeup, and sure likes being female when they have sex.

"They were nice, but they shouldn't have been," she finally answers as he gathers his clothes. "Violent."

Koumokuten, who was starting to walk out of the bedroom to the shower, pauses and asks, "Violent, huh?" He turns back to look at her, and then softly queries, "Was something hurting you?"

He's well aware that abuse of some sort drives most women in the sex trades to them, and Aguni never talks about her past, ever. He sometimes thinks horrible things, has bad dreams about her being cornered in a dark alley by a gang of thugs, but whenever he tries to steer the conversation around to why she chose to be a stripper, she changes the subject or says, "I make good money there."

"Nothing was hurting me. Not at all," she whispers, and then suddenly sits up, shaking her head. "But it doesn't matter. It's 7:00 in the morning, and your flight leaves in two hours, Koumoku– Kou."

He gives her a strange look and points out, "You've never called me by my full name." He comes back towards her and sets the clothes down, softly asking, "Are you okay, Aguni? Really, I mean."

He reaches out a hand to touch her shoulder and murmurs, "You must be upset. Do you wanna talk about it?" It's an offer that Parvati rarely gets anymore, but then again, she and her husband tend not to really talk much these days.

Aguni shakes her head almost desperately and replies, "No, I don't. Just… just go take your shower and I'll make you an egg. It's nothing important, really. Just a dream, we dream about the weirdest things sometimes, like being a penguin, which has happened to me before. Now go take your shower," she orders, just like she's his mom and he's a grubby teenager.

He sighs but obeys, and as he washes his hair, he grumbles inside his head about how she's so stubborn. When he comes into the breakfast nook, tying the tie he hates wearing, she's back to her normal self, smirking at the comics and sipping her tea. But he's startled to see two eggs, perfectly made, with _bacon. _Score! Bacon is a wonderful food, all hail pig sliced into thin little strips and loaded with grease.

"Aguni, what's this?" he asks, pleasantly surprised. "Damn, I feel like you're my personal sex maid. All you need is the short ruffled skirt and low-cut bodice. It's like some sort of hentai plot, minus all the crazy camera angles and the stupid lines," he teases with a pat to her head.

Aguni laughs and scolds, "Stop that! I just knew you like bacon, and you're always hungry in the morning."

"Yes I am." He sits down, then notices her plate has only one egg and no bacon whatsoever. "Don't you want some?" he hastens to offer, feeling a bit spoiled at her expense. She likes bacon too, who doesn't?

She looks tempted, but shakes her head and responds, "I only had the three pieces left. You can have them, I really don't –"

"Sex maid," he says imperiously, smirking, "I downright _order_ you to have a slice of bacon." He grins, lifts his chin for that perfect bossy, aristocratic effect, and then purrs, "Obey your master now."

And she blanches suddenly, her teacup slipping from her grip and shattering on the floor as her eyes go so wide it's scary. He stares at her with his eyes full of surprise, not least that she isn't swearing about breaking the cup – instead she's just sitting there. She manages a choked, "My…"

Koumokuten frowns, disturbed by her reaction. Apparently he's tapped into some deep-seated… what? Fear? Bad memory? Maybe she watched somebody get shot while eating bacon? No, that's unlikely, but maybe it was the "master" line. Perhaps some guy, some sadist on power trip or – or an old boyfriend with a control fetish…

"I was joking, Aguni, c'mon," he assures her rather desperately. "I'm not your –"

"Master…" she whispers, staring at him like she's never really noticed his appearance before. "_Koumokuten._" His name is a bare breath, filled with awe and an almost bittersweet longing, and her gaze is stunned.

Now he's very disturbed indeed, and practically demands, "Aguni, what the hell? What's going on?"

She is silent for a moment, then her eyes fill with tears. "You don't know?" she almost laments, slumping in her chair. "How could – I never –"

"Aguni!" He pushes his own chair back and gets up, going around the tiny kitchen table and grabbing her by the shoulders as he demands, "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost." She's pale, shaking, and seems to have forgotten the shards of teacup on the floor.

She gazes at him for a long time, then closes her eyes. When she opens them again, she seems to have made a decision, and tells him, "Never mind, Kou. I was just remembering my – awful childhood. I had an overbearing father, very bossy, very pushy. No matter what I did, it wasn't good enough for him."

He doesn't believe her, and points out, "Hey… you're trembling. Don't be scared," he whispers as he touches her jaw.

He leans forwards and kisses her, meaning for it to be soft and controlled, but she blows that idea right out of the water. She clings to him suddenly, forcing him closer, her mouth opening and turning desperate. She makes soft sounds of want, tears gathering in her lashes, as he groans into her mouth, crushing her to him. Passionate, more passionate than ever before, even when he'd been inside her for the first time, like this is something she's always wanted and won't let go, and only wants _more_.

He finally pulls back, panting for breath and still holding the back of her head in one hand, and manages a stunned, "Feel better?"

But she just looks indescribably sad, as if she'd been waiting for something and failed to get it. In a falsely bright tone, she says, "Yes. Yes, thank you Kou." She wipes her eyes quickly, deciding, "And I'll have that piece of bacon."

When he leaves twenty minutes later, she seems to be completely fine again. Good, that was unnerving. He still doesn't believe that it was because of an overbearing dad, but whatever it was, it seems to no longer be an issue, he thinks as he smiles at her and farewells, "Bye Fire Goddess. I'll call you when I'm in Wakkanai."

She nods, leaning onto the door as she replies, "Thank you, Kou." She gives him a peck on the cheek and chides, "Now hurry, you don't want to miss your flight!"

He glances at his watch, pales, and runs off down the hallway. Shit! If he misses his flight Ms. Ashitaka calls Yakinawa, and then if Yakinawa calls his house and asks Parvati why he's not there, all hell will break loose. Well, he'll just make sure to call Ms. Ashitaka if that happens, the minute – no, the _second _ he knows he won't make the plane.

As he opens his trunk, a noise suddenly registers: a shriek of grief, muffled and over with quickly, like some woman can't believe her misfortune in life. He shrugs it off and sets his suitcase down, thinking, _This neighborhood sure gets a lot of wackos._

In the apartment, Aguni stares at the wall, her eyes full of tears again and her throat tingling from the force of her scream. Terrifying, to suddenly realize you were living a cruel joke all along. Because he doesn't know. He's not truly _Koumokuten_, and she is now truly _Aguni_ again. And just like before… Parvati has Koumokuten. He fucks his mistress yes, but how can she expect him to love her like he loves Parvati, the mother of his daughter twice over?

_I used to think if he lay with me just once I would be happy. But having lain with him over and over, it's not enough. _She buries her face in her hands, on the floor and sweating with the force of her emotions as she thinks, _Gods… I knew all along that what I was doing was wrong, and I did it anyway!_

That first time he bought her a drink? She thought, _Such a unique man. Where have I seen you before?_

The time she tugged his ponytail? She thought, _I want to __touch__ you!_

The night she realized, her latest one-night stand having left, that she wanted a married man in her bed instead? She thought, _I'll get over it, I have to._

The night he brought her to the bar and toasted her with his sake, grinning? She thought, _Well, it happens all the time, why can't I have fun? I've probably slept with married men before and didn't know it, anyway._

The time his daughter called him as he was still in bed with her, and he talked to Tamara after having just screwed his adulterous lover? She thought, _It's no big deal, because it's not like I want to marry him! _

That was a lie, she knows now. Such a lie…

And she does not feel upset because of her sin against Parvati… no. She's upset for _herself_, because she's turned into something she never wanted to be, loving him. Weaker, more emotional, more thoughtful even, all for that man. Not so much a warrior woman, just a woman, like so many others brought to her knees for love of another person. And that wouldn't be such a problem if it were reciprocated, but how can it possibly be?

It's a midlife crisis coupled with that illicit thrill, an escape from a life that's slowly wearing him down, and she's his little girlfriend on the side who'll be cast away eventually, she thinks as she pounds the floor with her fists. Of course he likes her a lot, enjoys her company, but why would he continue doing this if he wasn't getting anything from it? Why would he risk his wife finding out if he didn't want something from his mistress?

_Mistress… woman on the side… private whore._

She screams again, because didn't she used to hate courtesans and people like Queen Shashi? Women who took the easy route to power, who hopped into bed instead of dedicating themselves to learning how to fight and win. Women who sat there and looked pretty, and got things handed to them on a platter because they spread their legs for the right man, a man often horrible and hideous and ancient. Aguni looked down upon beautiful young girls giggling at their elderly, infirm husbands' sides, because why force yourself to sleep with a man who disgusts you? Much better a handsome man, a strong man.

And there were many handsome strong men in Tenkai, so many she lost count. Who could blame her for wanting sex so much? It was addictive, so good she often wondered how she'd ever lived without it. Men acted the same way and no one batted an eye, but when _she _pursued a possible partner so aggressively people got scared. It wasn't like she was the only woman who slept with multiple men, but the others were more discreet about it and Aguni was no-holds-barred, like hotties were her lifeblood or something.

It became an obsession, even fighting them. She'd kill one, present his head to Koumokuten, and wait for praise and a sly, "Strong men turn you on? Come to my tent and we'll see if you can handle _me._"

But while the praise always came, the offer never did. So she'd find another man, each more good-looking than the last, and get wild because it made sense to desire a studly Adonis, and it didn't make sense to desire a man who looked like Koumokuten.

But no, there _was_ almost a terrible logic to that desire. After all, if it hadn't been for him she would've lived her life a peasant who probably married a country bumpkin, and never knew the joy of battle. And for all his imperious nature, he was often kind to _her. _Hell, her sword was a gift from him, and he'd make her laugh with a nasty crack about whoever he didn't like right then, there was always somebody.

And yet, he was a harsh master, one who demanded results or threatened punishment. But then again _she _was never punished, because she got him those results. And he would smirk and usually thank her, sometimes not, and always look to furthering his own ends. She knew he coveted the throne, and also knew that if he ever outright rebelled, she would stand beside him. But all he did was watch and wait, plot and slaughter as his emperor told him to.

But then there would be those times when he would look at her, an unfathomable expression on his face, and the world would go still around them. He would smile and she would smile back, and hope that he would lift a hand and touch her, or tell her, "Come to bed with me."

If he'd ordered it, she would have ripped her armor off and done whatever he wanted, anytime and anywhere. She would have serviced him on a crowded battlefield or in a private locked room, and shown him her devotion. She would have _made _him cast Parvati aside, clung to him and confessed her feelings. She would have pledged undying love and borne as many children as he wanted, given up fighting even! That would've been a huge sacrifice, but if Koumokuten had wanted it, Aguni would've done it.

But he never ordered it. He never knew, and _now_…

Now she thinks she is in fact in Hell, because she's become so wrapped up in him that there's a physical ache in her chest, now that she realizes he doesn't love her despite all that's happened. The affair was thrilling for her too, because the sex is great and she was of course fond of him. Did she love him before today, here in this new world? Oh yes, she knows that now, she thinks as she swipes at her eyes. No other man ever affected her like he does, made her want to spend all her time with him.

And now she faces a choice. It would be wise to end this, before it gets even harder to let him go, before he finally tells her, "I've had fun, but it's time for us to go our separate ways."

And doesn't he already have a woman he loves? Yes he's cheating on her, but surely that's because he's bored. And he deserves better than a stripper.

On the other hand, Aguni thinks as she sits back on her knees, now she at least has part of Koumokuten. Should she try to wrest him from Parvati, put all her energy into making him love her? And would it be so bad for him, to have someone at his side who would die for him? Who _did _die for him? If she tries, she can make him remember, she's sureof it. He made her remember with a careless joke, so all she has to do is find the key that will open that door in his mind.

And though it would hurt Parvati, doesn't Aguni, for once, deserve something at Parvati's expense? For all her hard work, for all she's gone through then and now, for the way she only wants one simple thing, isn't it time that she gets what she craves? Why should that woman have Koumokuten, when she doesn't appreciate him and Aguni does? Who was the one to lay down her life for him then, and thrill him in bed now? Not his wife, that's for sure.

She sniffles and raises her head, making her choice. What else can she do, she thinks almost hopelessly… because she _loves_ him.

.

Wakkanai sucks, rainy and turning to snow. There's ice and slush everywhere, it's cold and windy, and the sky is a dull, gloomy gray on this final day in the city. Koumokuten glares out at the awful weather as the taxi encounters yet another traffic jam on its way to the airport to take him home, and thinks, _I hate snow. Always have. And it's November 1st, there shouldn't be snow on November 1st!_

But even though his plane is delayed, he returns home before sunset to find Tamara waiting for him with a joyful, "Hi Father! How was Wakkanai?"

"Why it was just fine, baby girl. I got you something," he tells her, setting his suitcase down and unzipping it.

The box is there, carefully protected by clothes, and it seems in perfect condition. So he opens that as well and pulls out Tamara's gift. As he hands over the designer shoes that cost more than some people make in two weeks, she beams and giggles, "Thank you! What did you get for Mother?"

Oh… crap. He forgot Parvati!

"Tamara," he lies with a smile, "I can't tell you. It's a surprise, and it's still being shipped over."

He'll just have to run out tomorrow and buy Parvati something quite extravagant, then pretend it came from Wakkanai. It'll work, because he's pretty cunning.

He ends up forking over a ridiculous amount of money on jewelry that he thinks is ugly but that Parvati will be pleased by, featuring a big pearl and high gold content. He even goes so far as to have them ship it to his house, and the next evening he presents it to his wife with a flourish and a dashing, "For my dearest darling, a new necklace from Wakkanai."

"Oh Koumokuten," she beams so gratefully, "how sweet of you! I thought you'd forgotten about me," she admits as she puts the overpriced thing on, admiring her reflection in the mirror.

"No honey," he reassures her, completely untrue. "I know how much you like me to buy things for you."

Indeed, Parvati does like being bought things. And conversely, Aguni bridles when he tries to pay for her dinner. It just figures: the woman he wants to spoil hates it, the woman he hates spoiling downright needs it by now to avoid arousing suspicion. And he'd much rather buy Aguni something beautiful that would complement her, not something gaudy that in all honesty makes Parvati look –

"Koumokuten," she says cheerfully, "let's go to bed, okay? It's been a long time, and it's so nice to have you back. Tamara's already asleep anyway."

Can't get out of this one, logic informs him. So he smiles back and chuckles, "Sure honey. I missed you too," as they climb the stairs together.

They head to the bedroom and lock the door, without much fear that Tamara will hear them. Seventeen years of keeping quiet mean they're experts, and if she's not actually asleep, she's probably listening to music like usual. And it's not like Koumokuten and Parvati have passionate sex where you just _have _to scream, not anymore. But he fervently hopes, as they undress, that it'll still be good and she'll be making happy moans and saying exciting things.

But no.

_Parvati, _he growls in his head ten minutes later, _don't just do this for me, dammit! Don't just lie there and occasionally respond, like you're bored but humoring your husband. Hell, you used to pull me into your parents' study at New Year's because you couldn't wait!_

When it ends, she just lies there smiling as he forcibly stops himself from glowering at the unfairness of it all. He hadn't _wanted _this to happen, he hadn't _wanted _to go have an affair and to drift apart more each day from the woman he married. He meant it when he promised to love her in sickness and in health, for as long as they both should live. And now, they're just… going on. He isn't really living, not with her, and she seems oblivious to the fact that she's just going on too.

So he turns over and sighs, "Goodnight honey." _We just get farther and farther apart, and I don't even know if you're aware of that._

"Goodnight dear," she replies, turning over as well. "Sleep well, Koumokuten," she yawns as she turns out the light.

And that's that.

.

A week later, he feels the need to spoil Tamara again. She's having a hard time at school, her grades good but not good enough, the boy she was waiting on to ask her out suddenly coming out of the closet and dating the baseball captain. She cries in her room, mopes around, and complains to her parents, which of course makes Parvati complain too. Koumokuten feels annoyed at his wife but sorry for his daughter, and it really is very hard for him to see her sad.

_Poor Tamara, _he thinks after sending her a "Hang in there!" text at lunch._ I'll patch up her broken adolescent heart with… with… jewelry! She likes that one store, the one she drags me into at the mall. Maybe a new bracelet._

And so after work ("Kuro you clod, if you take the last of the coffee make some more!"), Koumokuten is confronted with a staggering array of bracelets. Pink, purple, silver, gold, bangles and charm bracelets and thick cuffs, beaded and molded and metallic… and those are just the non-semiprecious ones. He picks up a wide gold-colored cuff, with orange agates and little flame designs chased into it, then puts it down, shaking his head. He's not here for things Aguni would like but probably not accept, he's trying to find the perfect Tamara bracelet.

Then a silver cuff catches his eye, resting on the black velvet of a display case. He crosses over and peers at it. It's filigree, with a carved flower in rose quartz, looks like a lotus or something. And the most intriguing thing is that it has musical notes in the filigree. Unbeknownst to him, they even make a tune.

He doesn't know why, but a sudden vision of Tamara singing, flowers in her hair, flashes into his mind. But that makes no sense, because Tamara doesn't take voice lessons. Yes she sings along to her music very well, but she's shy about doing so in front of other people. And yet…

"Would you like to see something, sir?" a sales associate asks, smiling and homing in on a potential moneymaking opportunity. She continues with a helpful, "I noticed you looking at the middle row. Which one would you like to see?"

He nods and points with a firm, "That flower one. With the pink stone, the one near the top, underneath the turquoise swallow thing."

The associate takes it out, smiling and telling him, "Ah, the musical lotus, one of my favorites. You have good taste. The artisan who made it said it's one of a kind, and that she only had the one carved flower so she's not likely to make any more."

He studies it, picks it up, turns it from side to side. It's beautiful, well-crafted and delicate, something that's unusual in a cuff. Cuffs tend to be thick and chunky, wide and heavy, and while this one is certainly wide it's almost airy and so much lighter than any other cuff he's ever held. The flower is meticulously carved, smooth petals and thin edges, and very lifelike, so much so one would swear they were looking at a real pink lotus affixed to filigree.

"How much?" he queries, hoping for a decent price but not holding his breath.

After all, unique jewelry is more valuable than that with multiple examples of the style. And this is after all a masterful piece, so when she names a rather high price, it's not surprising in the least. But even though Tamara doesn't really sing, Koumokuten doesn't think on it at all. This is the ideal bracelet for his daughter and he knows she'll adore him for it, and heck, pink and silver really complement her coloring.

"I'll take it," he tells the associate, handing it back and reaching for his wallet. It'll be worth it, and he knows from experience that this store doesn't bargain.

The sales associate beams, asking, "Is this for a special lady?"

Koumokuten laughs a bit and replies, "Yeah, my daughter. She'll love it. It's perfect for her," he says honestly, giving up on pondering why. That mental image was extraordinarily detailed, and if he concentrates he can still hear Tamara's voice raised in song.

"Your daughter? Oh, that's so sweet," the associate beams, placing the cuff in a box. Then she cocks her head and studies him for a moment, and suddenly nods firmly. She smiles like the sun and chatters, "You need something."

He gives her a quizzical look and grumpily responds, "If you say I need a haircut, my answer is 'no.' "

"You need earrings," she tells him matter-of-factly. "Gold ones, hoops. They'd go well with your coloring, give you an exotic look. Ear piercings for males are big in America now, you know, and it's getting much more common here as well."

Koumokuten is grinning before he realizes what a bad idea this is, but when he does he quickly protests, "Look, miss, my company policy forbids ear piercings for men, and they bitch about my ponytail anyway." So why does he feel cheated, like he's been wanting earrings all along and is now denied them?

She shakes her head firmly and tells him, "We'll start you out with studs. Just order your people to let you have them."

"I can't order my boss around!" he snaps in exasperation. "Damn, you are one pushy saleslady. Do you get paid on commission or something?"

She sighs, nodding over to the piercing corner and telling him, "Chihiro there can do it fast, and we're having a sale today." She grins at him and urges, "The studs would be half-off. And no, I'm not paid on commission."

Koumokuten appraises Chihiro. Geez, that woman has more earrings than ear. He's annoyed, he feels badgered, and he really wants to just pay for Tamara's bracelet and leave. So why is he calculating a way to explain this to his boss? Why does he have blinding visions of himself strutting down the street with his sexy _earrings_, feeling on top of the world and with Aguni clinging to his arm, squealing, "Kou, you're positively irresistible now!"

_I'm a forty-six-year-old businessman, _he steadfastly reminds himself. _I'm not a twenty-something hipster with a tattoo and a job as a performing artist. Parvati will think I'm having a midlife crisis, Tamara will be embarrassed, Yakinawa will hit the roof, and Aguni will laugh._

_No she won't, _his mind says matter-of-factly. _She'll like them. She'll probably give you a gift of gold hoops herself. She'll think they're edgy and make you look exotic, like this lady said._

So he surrenders to the ridiculous notion of piercing his ears, and sighs, "Half-off, you say?"

.

Parvati gapes at her husband when he comes back, whistling a carefree tune and taking his shoes off with needlessly flamboyant motions. It's unusual to see him in such a good mood after work, but that's not why she's shocked and downright offended. Dear _gods_, there are gold stud earrings in that man's ears! What the hell does he think he is, a twenty-year-old hotshot? She can only pray these are some sort of clip-ons and he's trying to be funny, but she's definitely not laughing and will bitch him out for scaring her like that, if this is indeed a joke.

"Honey, what did you do to yourself?!" she screeches, dropping the book she was holding.

He grins sunnily, like a happy expression will make her happy too. Body modification? Why, it's A-Okay! It's _totally_ a normal thing for a middle-aged Japanese businessman to sport earrings! Any wives who get upset are clearly overreacting, and need to lighten up in the worst way.

"Just a little cosmetic upgrade, darling," he assures her, blithe as can be. "Nothing to get upset about. Anyway, dear, where's –?"

Parvati is appalled, and downright shrieks, "You pierced your ears! My gods, Koumokuten, are you trying to be young at heart for Tamara? She'll be humiliated! Are you trying to emulate her friend Aya's father, the one who's a musician?!"

"I got them for me," he snaps almost superciliously. "I like them."

He does, and they feel comfortable and familiar somehow. He'll have no problem keeping them in forever. Hell, he'll wear them to his deathbed and insist, "Tamara, make sure they keep my earrings in for the wake and funeral." When he checks into Heaven, he'll demand earrings instead of one of those fucking harps, which he's always hated for reasons he hasn't yet figured out.

Parvati glares at him, an expression he's been seeing a lot lately, then calls up the stairs, "Tamara! Come here, your father has something childish to show you!" She shoots him a scathing glare and adds, "He's ever so excited about it too!" in a mean, condescending tone.

Koumokuten's eyes narrow as he hisses, "Parvati, don't use Tamara to –"

"Yes?" Tamara asks curiously, earbuds in and blaring pop music so loud he can hear it from eight feet away. "What is it? Father, did you – ooh, did you get me a little puppy? A floofy white one, with –"

She notices then, and her mouth drops open. She stares at his earrings like she's never seen such things before, and asks in a whisper, "You got your ears pierced?"

"Your father is being immature to impress you, Tamara," Parvati snipes as she whacks him upside the head, "and –"

"They look awesome!" Tamara beams, flying down the stairs and hugging Koumokuten. "You look so cool!"

He pats her shoulders, grinning, "Aw, thanks Princess. Glad you like them, I like them too. Gee honey, she's so humiliated I wanna cry," he says nastily to Parvati, smirking and feeling most victorious indeed. Nyah-nyah, Tamara sided with him for once, neener-neener!

Parvati glares, hands on her hips, and sarcastically replies, "Well congratulations Koumokuten, a seventeen-year-old girl thinks her middle-aged father looks 'cool.' Back in the world of maturity, your boss will hit the roof. You look like a wannabe American rapper thug!" she howls in horrified condemnation.

Koumokuten shrugs as Tamara takes her earbuds out, and says breezily, "No dear, American rapper thugs have diamond-studded platinum, not plain gold studs. Plain gold studs are too understated for their attention-whoring personalities. And Yakinawa probably won't even notice, sweetheart, because if it isn't figures on a computer, he wishes it was. It'll be fine," he insists a bit testily, as Tamara smirks at her mother.

"Mother, he looks so rebellious now. All my friends will be jealous!" she proclaims, a slightly haughty expression on her face. She likes making people jealous, and showing off what she has or can do.

Koumokuten remembers something at "All my friends will be jealous." "That reminds me, Tamara…" He pulls a velvet-lined box from his jacket pocket and tells her, "I got you a little gift."

Tamara grins, because she adores gifts, and giggles, "Thanks, Father!" She grabs it and opens it, then gasps in happy, "I love shiny baubles" surprise. "It's beautiful!"

Parvati peers at the cuff as Tamara hugs Koumokuten again, and reluctantly admits, "It is lovely. And… are those musical notes in the metal?" she asks in an intrigued murmur, picking the bracelet up herself and studying it, a tiny smile on her face despite it all. Ooh, it is quite pretty, and she, unlike her husband, can read the simple little tune in the filigree.

"Yeah, those are musical notes," he replies as she hums the tune. And then, for what reason he doesn't know, he lays a hand on Tamara's shoulder and says with all honesty, "I think, sweetie, we should get you a voice coach. You were born to sing."

Parvati gives him a look, one that clearly says she thinks he's lost his mind. "She's never sung, Koumokuten," she tells him flatly, crossing her arms.

"Yes I have," Tamara defends herself, flushing pink. "Just… not in front of anyone else, that's all." She turns to her father and asks, "Do you really think so? Do you think I'm – well, do you think I'm good enough?" she queries with an almost vulnerable inflection in her voice.

"Absolutely," he nods in complete confidence. "You can hit those high notes already. And with training, who knows what you'll be able to do?"

Tamara's eyes are glowing, an almost beatific smile on her face as she tells them, "I want to find out."

.

For all his bravado with his disapproving wife, Koumokuten is wary when he comes into work the next morning. Yakinawa zeroes in on any fault, and stupidly, his hated underling keeps the earrings in. But luck is with him, at least for now, as Yakinawa is in a phone conference as he walks hurriedly past the manager's office, ducking into his cubicle with a sigh of relief. Cool, so far so good, and he crosses his fingers that his luck will continue. Much of the morning passes, and then, as he's changing the toner in the printer, his luck runs out.

"Kuro!"

That was a harsh bark from behind and a few feet below him, and he turns slowly, cringing, "Mr. Yakinawa, sir. Hello."

"Kuro, you're flouting company policy once again!" Yakinawa yips, and Koumokuten has a sudden vision of a Pekingese with glasses and a bad combover. But he plays it cool and replies, "Sir, I've been punctual and hardworking, so how can you say I –?"

"Are you a woman, Kuro?" Yakinawa snaps. Various cubicle dwellers are peering out at this one-sided battle, and a hush has fallen. Nothing entertains like a confrontation, after all, and it's been quiet lately.

"Why, of course not sir," Koumokuten manages with a shrug. "Do I look like I have boobs?"

A quickly-stifled giggle floats in the air behind Yakinawa, but the manager pays it no heed. "Kuro, you are wearing _earrings!_" he snarls, like this is an offense worse than rape, murder, and arson combined.

Koumokuten unconsciously raises a hand to touch one, expects a large hoop, and encounters only a stud as he replies, "Yessir."

"Take them out," his boss orders, hands on hips and tapping his foot in a tattoo of "You moron, this is against regulations! Bad office drone!"

Koumokuten shakes his head before he knows what he's doing, and Yakinawa swells with rage, then threatens, "Kuro, if you don't take those stupid things out I'll cut off that juvenile ponytail and toss it out the window." Everyone can tell he means it.

_Try it, motherfucker… I'll send you to Hell._

But then reality returns, a world where Parvati would go nuts if her husband gets himself fired. It's not worth it just to keep the earrings in, even though they said to keep them in for weeks. So Koumokuten nods quickly and agrees, "Yes Mr. Yakinawa. Taking them out right now, sir." And he does.

Yakinawa watches with a bitter glare on his face, then informs his subordinate, "If you wear those again in here I'm writing you up, Kuro. You're on thin ice, mister, and a bumbling buffoon like you will crash through it soon enough."

With that, he turns on his heel and leaves. Koumokuten glances around, and yes, every single face is turned to him. What phenomenal entertainment, this latest chapter of Mini Boss versus Ponytailed Underling, even though it ended just like it has all the other times. Nice as that sudden internal badass voice was, Koumokuten is certain that he'll never get the chance to tell Yakinawa just where he can stick his control freak, bully attitude.

"Show's over," Koumokuten snarls, and there's an immediate flurry of hard work and lowered heads, and hidden smirks. He sighs and puts the earrings in his pocket. He'll just put them back in the minute he leaves the building.

That's just what he does, hours later, after telling his wife he's staying late again. Big surprise, he heads over to Aguni's instead, wondering what she'll say to the earrings. Okay yeah, he _thinks _she'll like them, but what if he's dead wrong? What if she thinks he's having a midlife crisis too, and lectures him on acting his age like Parvati did? What if she smiles at his face but laughs behind his back, or says bluntly, "Kou, you look stupid. Please take them out and let the holes close up"?

_No, _is his defiant reply to that imaginary order. _I'm not giving my earrings up, I love them. I don't care what people will say, and maybe this is a midlife crisis to go along with the sexy younger girlfriend, but I'm not getting rid of my earrings. Still, I have to hope she actually likes 'em._

So when he knocks on the door, he stands tall and smiles proudly, waiting for her reaction. If she doesn't notice he'll direct her attention to his new jewelry, but he's pretty sure she will, because after all, she's very observant. And indeed, when the door opens and she smiles at him, her eyes are almost instantaneously drawn to his earlobes, her mouth dropping open and those eyes going wide in surprise. Earrings! _Earrings _again, not wide hoops like in Tenkai but still, pierced ears.

She stares at them for a long, silent moment, wondering what this means. Has he remembered? Or is this a coincidence? It very well could be, but she hopes against hope that this is his way of telling her, "Hey Fire Goddess, look what I got, to remind me of the old days."

She looks him in the eye, and lightheartedly asks, "What, no big red hoops to go along with the turban?"

He gives her a weirded-out look and almost snaps, "What's that supposed to mean?" He's convinced she thinks he looks stupid and is playing some sort of "Exotic Male" dress-up. Shit, and here he thought she'd say they're cool.

It's a coincidence after all, she realizes with a heavy heart. Well, she half-expected that, so she shakes her head and forces herself to snicker, "I was just being goofy, don't mind me. But Kou," she grins, covering up her sadness with excitement, "those are so _sexy!_ How rebellious! Parvati threw a fit, didn't she?" she guesses excitedly as she lets him in.

_Awesome, she likes 'em, _he thinks in relief, and the turban statement is forgotten.

She plays with his earrings until he reminds her that he's supposed to leave them alone, and then she pouts and reluctantly takes her hand away. She's fascinated by them, and he can't wait until the holes have healed and she can toy with them to her heart's content. As it is, she gets him on his back and does a certain other something for him, an act he's always happy to be on the receiving end of. Oh boy, here's something else Aguni's better at than Parvati, not least because she makes sure to tell him how much doing it turns her on. Which is the Gospel truth.

.

He's in the grocery store picking out milk a month later, trying to resist Tamara's whines for pocky, when a deep, excited voice makes him jump as it says, "Kou…Koumokuten! I can't believe this!'

He whips around and gapes. A huge man, taller than him with hair like a shorter version of Aguni's (but blue), and eyebrows that could really use some shaping, is grinning at him like he's encountering an old friend. He's dressed in a tailored suit, with nice shoes and an expensive watch, and if his tie isn't designer silk, the world isn't round. He's Koumokuten's age, maybe a little older or maybe not, and if Koumokuten thought he himself was buff, this dude makes him feel all inadequate.

"What are the odds?" the guy asks rhetorically, stepping forwards and still grinning. "I mean, seriously though!"

Koumokuten is completely confused, and manages a suspicious, "Uh… who're you? Have we met?" he nearly demands, because what kind of lunatic gets all excited to see a total stranger?

The guy's face falls as he sighs, "Oh. I see you haven't – never mind." He bows gracefully despite his build and continues, "My name's Zouchouten. Yusaku Zouchouten."

_Zouchouten…_

Koumokuten shakes off that annoying, annoying feeling of déjà vu. Where has he seen this man before? He has to have met him, because he recognizes the guy. He's pretty distinctive-looking, it would be hard to mistake him for somebody else, so the brunette cautiously replies, "Yes, hi. How do you know who I am?"

"We used to know each other," Zouchouten murmurs in a matter-of-fact tone. "A long time ago."

Ah, no doubt this is a childhood friend or something; Koumokuten is pretty bad at keeping in touch. So now he feels embarrassed, because Zouchouten obviously remembers and is pleased to see him.

"Um, great," he smiles, because he's expected to. "So, uh, Mr. Yusaku, I have to be –"

"Just Zouchouten, please," the big man insists a bit desperately. "Look, um…" he fishes in his pocket and comes up with a business card, then scribbles a number on it, "let's have lunch sometime. I'd love to reconnect." He smiles some more and offers, "Bring Parvati and Tamara."

Koumokuten's face blanches. Oh gods, this guy is a stalker! He's probably glimpsed him before and that's why he's familiar. Maybe Zouchouten spends his evenings hiding in the neighbors' bushes, thinking to himself, _Ah, my sweet little Koumokuten… when I kidnap you and drive you to a deserted location where you have no hope of resisting my advances, then my life will be complete._

"Sir, I'm sorry," Koumokuten says firmly, "but I really think you –"

"Father, they have mango!" Tamara simpers, pulling his sleeve, and then glaring pointedly at Zouchouten. "And you are?" she asks imperiously, a princess confronted with a roaming peasant who's wandered into her halls.

Zouchouten just sighs, "An old, old friend your father's forgotten. No doubt you have as well." He seems sad about this, and suddenly Koumokuten knows that he's not stalking him and really is an old friend. How he has no idea, but it's there, just like Tamara the singer.

That very girl gives Zouchouten a strange look, then whispers, "This weirdo is scaring me," to her dad. "Father, I want to go home." She tugs at his sleeve, gets no response, and pouts, tugging a bit harder.

But Koumokuten isn't scared at all, and he no longer wants to flee. Instead, he's suddenly fighting the urge to slap Zouchouten on the back and ask him all about –

"How's the Sky Queen?" he blurts out, the words coming from nowhere and said before he can think on them.

Zouchouten beams. Koumokuten's mouth drops open in confused shock. Tamara sticks a box of pocky in the cart behind Koumokuten's back, taking advantage of this distraction. Ha, this always works, because he can't say "no" in front of other people, like the cashier.

"I mean," that easily manipulated parent flounders, "I mean – hell, I don't know!" _"Sky Queen"? What is this, some fantasy movie?!_

Zouchouten reaches out and pats his shoulder, murmuring in a supportive voice, "It's starting. Someday you will." He presses the card into Koumokuten's shaking hand and continues, "If you ever start to think you've lived twice, call me. I can help with that."

And with that he walks off, whistling a happy tune that sounds Middle Eastern or maybe Indian, somewhere exotic for sure. Unbeknownst to Koumokuten, it's one of Kendappa's pieces, the one she wrote to commemorate Karura's ascension to her tribe's throne and thus Guardian Warrior of the Southland. Koumokuten stares after Zouchouten until he turns a corner, and then looks reflexively down at the business card.

It reads, "Yusaku Zouchouten. President and CEO of Garuda Corporation. Office phone: 03-3543-8762. Email: yusakuz [at symbol] garudacorp . jp." And written in pen: "Home phone 03-3543-8876."

_Garuda… The Hindu bird-god thing? What the hell?_

When he's back out in his car, Koumokuten absentmindedly sticks the card in the glove compartment and thinks, _What a nutter. And why do I have a sudden vision of him with sideburns long enough to braid?_

.

.

(AN: "Kuro" means "black," "gassen" means "war," and "ka" means "fire" in Japanese. I used "Parvati" as Koumokuten's wife's name because she wasn't important enough to get an official one, and I've used that name for her before. It means "daughter of the mountain" in Sanskrit. And yes, I did belatedly realize that Parvati is Shiva's and not Virupaksa's [Koumokuten's] wife in Hinduism, but I was unable to find out what Koumokuten/Virupaksa's wife is actually named, if he even has one. So I'll just stick with "Parvati" until someone tells me the correct name for her.)


	13. Panic and Flight

**Chapter Twelve: Panic and Flight**

One night in August, the moon full and golden in the sky, Koumokuten steps out of his taxi, carrying his suitcase and grinning. Nothing like coming home after a business trip to Latvia, of all crazy places. But at least it had nice Baltic amber jewelry, two examples of which are in his carry-on for Tamara and Parvati. And a pendant for Aguni, hidden in his suitcase, and dammit, she'll accept it too!

He hums tunelessly, opens the door… and stops short. Parvati is there, wearing a robe with her hair loose and her face white, sitting in a chair and gripping the arms so hard tendons stand out in her hands.

"Well hi, honey," he smiles glibly, setting down his suitcase and carry-on bag. "I missed you too."

"Koumokuten, we have to talk."

Her voice is a rasp, her eyes burning and her fists clenched now. She looks intense, scary even, and all of a sudden much, much older than she really is, with lines on her face that he's never seen before and bags under her eyes. Something big has clearly upset her, and he panics briefly, then makes himself smile and ask evenly, "Is Tamara okay? Her boyfriend didn't break up with –"

"Tamara is _not _okay, Koumokuten," she hisses furiously. "She is most upset, as am I."

_Oh… fuck, _he thinks with a cold feeling of dread._ She knows about Aguni. Holy shit, she knows. _

"Sit down," his lawful spouse orders, ice in her voice and indicating the other chair with a sharp wave of her hand. He obeys, still smiling, a mask to defend against the coming storm. But there's a chance she doesn't know, and he'll give her nothing, volunteer no information, _lie. _Like he's lied for years.

So he asks in a soothing tone, "Parvati, honey, what's this about?"

Maybe Yakinawa called when he was away and complained about him to his wife. Maybe her mother found out about last month's rant to Tamara about her. Or maybe Parvati is just in a really, really bad mood? Perhaps Tamara slept with a boy, which is certainly awful, but not as bad as if Parvati has figured out the infidelity.

She reaches out to the side, picks up an envelope from the coffee table next to her, and yells, "You adulterous son of a bitch, _this _is what it's about!"

He jerks back, scared and shocked. Envelope… oh no, an envelope can only mean –

She pulls out a stack of pictures, shoving them into his hands as she almost screams, "You bastard, don't you _dare _try to lie! If you lie to me again I'll hurt you!"

He can't, there's no way. One picture would have been enough, but this is _twenty_. Multiple times, multiple places, even multiple beds and positions… no doubt: Aguni and him, him and Aguni, smiling at a café, kissing under an awning, naked and writhing and in various states of undress, touching each other and cuddling when it's over, brown skin and peach skin bared and flushed with excitement. This is incriminating evidence like nothing else, and he's horrified that someone took these, and he never noticed.

He looks up at his wife, opening his mouth to maybe start to apologize, but she slaps him, twisting his head to the side and leaving a red handprint on his cheek.

"Koumokuten, I… I can't…" She's crying now, gasping sobs, her chest heaving as she goes on, "You cheated on me with this woman! You slept with her and lied to me!"

What can he say or do to ease this betrayal? He thinks desperately, and is horrified to realize that he searches only for a way to make her leave him alone, not to apologize. No acknowledgment that he's done wrong, just excuses for what he did, like, "You drove me to it," when she honestly didn't. She drifted away from him, but that was _his _choice to go to Aguni.

_Oh sacred gods… I don't love her anymore. I honestly don't. I can't bring myself to be sorry for this, for cheating on the woman I swore I'd always be faithful to, _he thinks almost dazedly.

"Parvati, I'm sorry you're hurt, I am. I truly am…" he manages, his voice cracking. But that's all he's sorry for, and that realization is near-frightening, yet at the same time not a surprise at all.

She collapses, her hands clenching a death grip onto his shirt, her head bowed and unable to speak for her sobs. She loves him, and he's broken her trust and committed adultery… and he fucking _can't feel bad about it. _He doesn't regret it, and he'd do it all over again. So he says the only thing he can: "Parvati, I'm sorry, but I – I want a divorce."

Her sobs choke to an end, and she raises her ashen face and croaks, "No. Koumokuten, _no! _Look, maybe a – a trial separation, you dump this slut and we'll go to marriage counseling! I love you, darling, and we'll… we'll get through this."

He shakes his head, forcing himself to look her in the eye, and tells her, "I can't, Parvati. For years, I thought I'd fall back in love with you, but even if she'd never come along we woulda had to end this."

She yanks him forward by his shirt, her teeth gritted, then shrieks, "I will not let you do this! Think of Tamara! Think of _me!_ I broke off my engagement with another man for you, Koumokuten! You can't just decide you don't want me anymore because you're having a midlife crisis! You leave," she growls, her eyes mere centimeters from his, "and my lawyer takes you for everything you've got for Tamara. But I want you to stay! I _love _you!"

He looks at her, taking stock of everything. She's right, of course she's right: he's been a monster to his wife, who's stayed faithful to him, and bore his child, and loves him despite what he's done to her. Yet he cannot love her by now. Marriage counseling can't save them, and he'll turn bitter and hurt her in a thousand daily, tiny actions.

No. He realizes, with his once-beloved wife crying before him and begging him to stay, that he's in love with someone else. It started as curious lust, but now he can't turn back. If he loses Aguni he might as well shoot himself now, and if he loses Parvati he can keep Aguni. _She _understands him, thrills him, makes him think of her when they're apart and never want to leave when they're together, because she's a perfect foil for him, smart enough to see through his barriers and strong enough to take care of herself.

He gently makes Parvati's fingers unclench from his shirt, saying, "I'm sorry. Truly, I am. Parvati, you can have what you want… but I'm leaving you."

She falls back, crumbling, her face in her hands and sobbing, and he stands up, wanting to hug her in penance and ease her pain somehow, because she is a decent person… but also wanting to walk right back out the door, because _he_ is a bad person. He settles for a whispered, "I really am sorry. I'll move out right now, Parvati. Just let me go tell Tamara."

"I heard already."

Their daughter's voice makes him spin around. She's standing on the stairs, pale and shaking with anger, holding another photograph. This one is of his head between Aguni's legs, which makes him feel physically sick. No child should see such a thing, their parent in bed with someone in pornographic detail.

"You absolute, total _motherfucker_," Tamara growls through gritted teeth. "You _bastard_. You perverted, disgusting – how could you?"

Parvati gets up, shoots him one more betrayed glance, then rushes past him and up the stairs, her daughter's hand brushing her shoulder as she flees. He can hear her running down the hallway, then a loud slam as she goes into their bedroom. And then wracking sobs, muffled but still audible.

"Father…" Tamara whispers, then, "I hate you!" That was a scream, so loud he winces at it, and she tears the photograph to shreds with violent motions of her hands.

"Tamara," he says helplessly, "baby, just because I'm divorcing your mother doesn't mean I don't lo–"

"Stop," she hisses, shaking her head so hard her teardrops fling themselves into the air. "Just stop. I saw what you did. And you came back and kissed Mother and kissed my cheek after your mouth was on _her!_" she half-screams, half-sobs, still shredding that horrible photograph.

"Tamara, I swear, I didn't mean for it to happen," he protests, but even as he says it, it feels false, and part of him thinks, _I did mean for it to happen. For so long I wanted her – _

_No! It was lust at first sight, so how the hell could I want her for so long?!_

"Look at you," Tamara's voice breaks into his thoughts. "You can't even talk to your own daughter without thinking of that horrible woman!" She throws the last pieces of the photograph at him like a major-league pitcher, but they're not aerodynamic enough to reach him.

He doesn't notice, a sudden vision of Aguni sprawled naked on a bed occupying his mind's eye. Then he snaps back to the present and steps towards Tamara, attempting, "Sweetie, look, things will change, but you'll always be my –"

She pushes him violently away and snarls, "Don't hug me with hands that touched _her! _You can go to hell! You lied to us and thought you could just have your little girlfriend on the side and we'd never know?! You didn't even care enough to tell us you were tired of Mother?!" she screams in fury.

"Tamara honey," he frantically pleads, "I swear to you, I love you, and –"

_SMACK! _

Another slap to the face, same cheek even, more vehement than the first. He brings a hand up to ease the smart, and she stands straight and tells him, "Go on and leave, Father. Go fuck your cheap whore and forget all Mother's done for you. I won't beg you to stay, because you won't stay for _me_."

And with that, she whirls and runs, slamming her door as well and screaming into her pillow. He takes in a deep breath, lets it out in a despairing sigh, and slumps where he stands. In the space of less than ten minutes, it's all changed forever. It's out in the open, and the daughter he hugged and patted on the head and kissed on the cheek for now eighteen years is furious at him as well.

_But what else could I have possibly expected? What I did to her mother, what I'm doing to Tamara… I'm telling them, "You don't matter as much as Aguni does." _

He presses a hand into his eyes, leaning back against the wall. If things had been ideal, he would have told Tamara, before anything else happened, "I will _always _love you no matter _what,_" let Parvati down gently…

But he can't change what he's done, damn it. He'll make the best of what he's wrought. So he looks around his living room, with the antique end table he bought Parvati for their fifteenth anniversary, one last time. He'll live in the office if he has to. No, he'll go to Aguni, tell her, "I can't go on without you," and they'll buy a bigger apartment or a house, or maybe he'll just stay in that little apartment with her forever. Well, not that, but she'll let him stay. She _has _to, right?

Right.

_Okay, _he thinks as he grabs his bags and heads to his garage, _I'll sell stock and get us a nice condo or something, and she'll say, "Kou, I'll stop the dancing and go to school instead. I love you too."_

So as he drives off, he takes one more look back at his house. There are no lights on, Tamara and Parvati are crying in the dark.

_You fucker,_ his conscience snarls._ You ruined their lives._

But what else could he really have done, after going so far and falling so deep? If he had stayed, he would have lied to Parvati, smiled and nodded in marriage counseling, and gone right back to Aguni, he knows this. It's fact: monstrous and selfish and downright evil, but fact. It would've torn Parvati apart, made Tamara go nuts, made all of their lives living hells. This way, there's closure of some terrible sort, and they can hate him with well-deserved rage and after a while, find someone else to transfer their love to.

Parvati will. Tamara will too, because she's spoiled and downright _needs _someone to say, "Sure Princess, of course I'll buy you that expensive dress!"

_But, shit, I __like__ spoiling my daughter! I want to go back and grab her and bring her with me!_

Stupid. Completely inappropriate and completely impossible, to expect Tamara to choose her cheating father over her nurturing, in-the-right mother. Downright asinine, to hope that she'll think it over and forgive him…

Koumokuten blinks suddenly, realizing where he is. He's already at Aguni's apartment and he doesn't even remember a single second of the drive. Frightening. But he picks up his suitcase, opens the outer doors with the key she gave him, and walks into the elevator. Usually he takes the stairs, but why waste time? So he stalks over to her door with his heart in his throat, and knocks.

Aguni answers after the fourteenth strike of his hand against the wood, wearing an old, oversized t-shirt and no pants, blinking at the desperate-looking man standing in her hallway with dark circles under his eyes. She gives him a frown and whispers, "Kou, it's midnight. What are you –?"

"Let me in. Please, Aguni."

She steps back to do so, then catches sight of the suitcase and suspiciously queries, "What's going on? Did you just come here after your flight got in? Kou, she'll be –"

"I left her," he tells her bluntly, his voice harsh. "I'm serving her with papers as soon as I can. It's over for us." It is. It should have been over for at least a year, but at least now it's finally come to its finale.

Aguni staggers back, her face pale and her eyes wide, having trouble breathing as she chokes out, "You…"

He throws his suitcase to the side and grabs her, kissing her hard and nearly crazed with emotion. One hand holds her head and the other hefts a breast, because dammit, this is what he wanted, isn't it? Sex with his mistress at the expense of his wife's love. So if they get naked, if he doesn't think on it, it will all turn out okay somehow. If they fuck, he forgets what Tamara saw and said to him, and Aguni will drive that shame away.

But she shoves him back, leaving him panting as she breathes, "I can't… why the _hell _did you leave her?" she rasps, slamming the forgotten door closed and then circling around to stare at him.

"I… she had pictures, Aguni. From all over in this city, and I think that little town of Hotaru, a month ago," he answers, suddenly wishing he'd grabbed the envelope and taken it with him to destroy.

"You left because she had _proof?_" Aguni hisses in near-disgust. "You knew what we were doing, and now that she knows too you couldn't handle it? That's why you left your wife?!"

"That's not why!" he snarls. "I left because I – I left for _you_, damn it!"

She takes a step back, but he follows her and embraces her again. Oh no, she's not getting away now, not when he needs her so badly, not when she's always before responded to his touch with near-ravenous enthusiasm. Why is it different now?

"Kou… no," she protests, stiff in his arms and trying to pull away. "You divorce your wife it will destroy her and your daughter and _you_. Burn the pictures, bury the ashes in the yard, and go on with your –"

"I don't know how she got them," he thinks aloud, because if he focuses on this problem he won't have to hear what she's saying. "Musta been some sort of private investigator or – or something. I'm sorry you got mixed up in this. She'll probably wave those things around to her extended family and hand them out in court like obscene party favors. …Aguni?"

He pulls back and stares. She looks awful, stricken and biting her lip, hard. Then she takes a deep breath and says softly, "I sent her those pictures."

He gapes at her; maybe he's hallucinating. Too little sleep, no doubt.

"Aguni, that's not funny," he snaps, letting her go and rubbing his temples. "You were in all of them. Now get me some aspirin, because I can tell I'll have a killer headache soon, and –"

"No," she tells him with tears in her eyes, "no, I'm not joking. I did it, Koumokuten. The ones in public were by a friend, the ones in private were from a hidden camera."

He collapses onto the couch and breathes, "Holy fuck, Aguni… you sent my wife pictures of us in bed. You – why'd you _do _that?!" he yells suddenly, furious and appalled and frightened, honestly. Why in the world would she do such an awful thing to him?

_You tried to manipulate me, that's it, it must be. You __bitch__, you knew I'd choose you over her and run to you like a little boy!_

"Aguni! I… you… Aguni!"

He's crying, damn it. He hasn't cried for years. God, it's had all gone so wrong, and he can't stay with her like this! And he can't crawl back to Parvati either. He can't just pretend he loves her now, not after Aguni. Aguni, who broke up his marriage. Aguni, who sent his wife pictures of her husband having sex with another woman, who let his _daughter _see those images! Aguni, who he, like a colossal fool, is still in love with, not that it will save them. After this, he'll never be able to take her at face value again.

"Koumokuten…" She drops to her knees, crying herself, two feet away and the picture of misery, and continues, "I tried to tell you to go back to her. I tried to warn you, in the beginning. But every time I did, you smiled at me and went further, like you remembered the lives when –"

"Don't talk to me about reincarnation, mystical _crap_," he snarls in fed-up fury. "Karma's a bitch, Aguni, and what were you trying to prove? That by setting me back on the path to my wife you could be the better person?"

"No." She shakes her head, silent tears on her face, and explains, "I was trying to save you!"

"Save me." He stares at her, and then laughs harshly and loud, a slightly insane-sounding bark, before he snipes, "Yeah, you did _such _a great job of that. I'm left with nothing now. My daughter hates me and I can't go back to Parvati, and I can't stay here with you. Shit, Aguni, you fucked up big time," he growls dangerously, fighting the urge to flip her off in his humiliated anger.

"Koumokuten," she tells him in an insistent tone, looking him in the eye, "you _can_ go back to her! She'll forgive you in the end. Tamara will come around, she –"

"No," he husks out. "No, I can't, dammit. I chose you over her, and now we can't have even that. You wanted to save me? Then why didn't you say 'no,' Aguni? Why didn't you tell me you wanted me to leave? You let me think you felt something."

"Because I _love _you," she answers in a bare whisper, open and terrified for the first time he's ever seen. "I love you so much, and I was selfish. And that's why I sent her those pictures, because she loves you too and I _know _you loved her before, and you can again. I sent them to force your hand so you'd realize what you felt for her and stay with your wife. If I only thought of me, I would have tied you up and never let you go home again to her, ever. I would have kept you with _me. _But because I love you, I knew that you deserved what you had. I did it for _you!_"

He stares at her, then demands in a bark, "You mean you were just gonna let me traipse back off to the woman you hate because you think _I _deserve happiness? What about _you?_ If you love me, wouldn't I make you happy?" he queries almost desperately.

Aguni shakes her head vehemently and replies, "I don't deserve happiness, Koumokuten. I know for a fact that in a past life I was a terrible person. Not that I regret it in the least, but I was still someone who was awful."

"Sure you were, so was I," he snaps impatiently. "I had to have been! So what's your past life, Aguni? Serial killer? Nazi concentration camp guard? Witch hunter? Genghis Khan warrior?" he mocks condescendingly.

She just gazes at him with teary eyes, then groans, "You don't know, and you never will! I can't –"

"Tell me," he growls in imperious urgency, grabbing one of her arms and pulling her towards him. "I _order _you to tell me!"

His grip is hard, bruising almost, and she winces slightly at it but nods. And then she says simply, "Your loyal attack dog, my lord."

He stares at her, his mouth open, and whispers, "You… my…"

And images flash into his mind: a burning underground city, a double-ended sword, a man with flowing silver hair and three eyes. An armored warhorse black as night with a gravity-defying white mane and tail, a signal in the sky, a waterfall of blood from a cloven woman's body, a whirling mass of snake-like monsters, another long-haired man with glowing red eyes, and more pain than he'd ever felt befo–

"STOP!" he downright screams, tearing at his hair. "For all that's good, _stop!_"

"Sir –"

He throws her from him, teeth bared and eyes slitted, confused and angry and shocked. What the hell is this?! What did she do, how did she make him hallucinate like that?

"Get away!" he hisses, even as she hits the floor with a wince. Then she stares up at him, sprawled on the floor with her eyes wide, and tries, "Koumo–"

"I said _stop!_" he thunders, standing and drawing himself up to his full height. "I won't be driven insane! You made this torture start, it started when I saw you! I don't know what you did, but I won't let it continue!" he proclaims in a snarl, his hands clenched into shaking fists.

He storms forward, grabbing his suitcase and yanking the door open with a growl of "Goodbye. You got your wish, I can't stay."

And he slams it shut behind him, so loud a neighbor pokes his head out and hisses, "Keep it down, ya motherfucking bast–"

Koumokuten turns a look so evil on him that he gulps and stammers, "Y-You… you fine figure of a man."

But Koumokuten doesn't hear him. He's already slamming out of the hall, into his car, screeching off into the night. Because he's panicked and he has to _escape_, and she's the one who did this to him! It's her fault that his mind is playing tricks with his memory, showing him things that can't be true. All her fault, it _must _be! She's a – a witch, a sorceress, a _something _that cast a spell on him and threw lies into his brain, for what reason he doesn't know, but that has to be it!

_Aguni. Varuna Vahyu Deva Rudra – _

_NO!_

…_Tamara Parvati Tenou Shashi Kendappa – _

_I said NO!_

…_Karura Ryuu Yasha Ashura Souma – Tentei Kisshouten Taishakuten Bishamonten Jikokuten Zouchouten –_

He suddenly slams the brakes on in the middle of an intersection. A car horn blares, but he pays it no heed. _Zouchouten_… If that strange and strangely familiar man in the grocery store knew about this feeling of memories that can't be real, Koumokuten isn't going insane.

_But maybe I imagined that too! _he can't help but think, gnashing his teeth in his emotional distress.

Two more cars honk, and he glares and forces himself to drive again. As soon as he can, he pulls into a parking lot for a store. He parks the car mechanically, and then reaches with a trembling hand for his glove compartment, and the card is there, right where he put it. He stares at it, the city roaring around him and harsh laughter in his own voice ringing in his head. So Zouchouten was real, and he said – what were his exact words? Koumokuten can't remember, but the gist was, "Call if you feel weird, I can help."

"_It's starting…"_

He considers long and hard about what he should do. Talking to Zouchouten would lead him farther and farther away from Parvati, as he's never encountered this sense of having lived before with her. But Zouchouten recognized Tamara, so what the hell?

He leans his head onto the steering wheel, heaving a sigh. But he knows, he doesn't know how, that these feelings will gain momentum no matter what he does. Will they send him to a mental ward where he'll believe with all his heart that he's Lawrence of Arabia? Will they send him off a bridge if he suddenly realizes he was something so awful he should be shot? Will they send him to a gun shop where he'll purchase the means to blow the head off anyone who makes him mad?

He has the overwhelming sense that Zouchouten will help him navigate this, soothe the torturous pain and coax him off that ledge. Zouchouten is a good person, he knows in that same way. And he'll finally get some answers instead of fumbling around in the dark without a clue. Zouchouten knows things, things Koumokuten doesn't and needs to, and if he can just get ahold of him, things might make a lot more sense.

So he dials the home number with shaking fingers, and a familiar voice answers with a polite, "Hello? Whom am I speaking to?" But it isn't Zouchouten's voice, it's that of a woman, confident and throaty. An alto, not as low as Aguni's but certainly lower than Tamara's soprano, and this woman has wonderful, crisp enunciation.

"Hello?" she repeats at the lack of response, sounding a bit annoyed. "Who is this, and how did you get this number? We're unlisted."

"Hi… um, is – is Zouchouten there?" Koumokuten asks helplessly, thunking his head back against the seat. "I really, really need to talk to him. I mean, _really. _It's important. Please, is he there? He gave me this number and said he was an old friend," he tells her as confidently as he can, like he's not some crazy man grasping at straws in a sea of frightening visions.

She sighs, and still sounds a bit suspicious as she replies, "Yes, just a moment." A few seconds later, Zouchouten murmurs, "Hello?"

"Mr. Yusaku? This is –" He means to say "Kuro Koumokuten" but all that comes out is a weak, "Koumokuten. You remember me, I –"

"Of course I remember you," Zouchouten warmly responds. "I could never forget you, and I'm so glad you called me. Just a sec –" Koumokuten hears a whispered, "It's Koumokuten," and then a friendly, "How are you?"

_Batshit insane, thank you. _

"Confused," he manages a bit tremulously. "Look, you said I could talk to you if my mind started ripping apart. Please?" he begs, too upset to care how pathetic he must sound.

Now Zouchouten's voice is concerned as he asks, "Where are you?"

Koumokuten glances around. Where is he indeed? He's never been here before, never having any reason to come to this part of town except to see Aguni, and he takes a different route. Hell, he isn't even sure which direction he went, but a quick glance at the direction screen on the rearview mirror informs him that he's facing southwest. Great, but that still doesn't tell him where he actually is.

"Looks like…" he squints at a street sign, "looks like the intersection of Kei Street and Ichi Street."

"Do you have a pen?"

He fumbles mechanically for one, locates a piece of paper as well, and mumbles, "Yeah." Zouchouten gives him detailed directions to a park, repeats them twice, and then says calmly, "I'll be there as soon as I can, okay? Drive safe, and don't worry, it's going to be fine."

Koumokuten nods stupidly, even though Zouchouten can't see him, and replies in a weak voice, "Thanks."

"You're welcome. I'll – hold on." There are muffled voices, and then Zouchouten says firmly, "_We'll _be there as soon as we can."

"Who's 'we'?" Koumokuten asks in a dazed tone. Maybe the guy will show up with a cadre of helpful hypnotists, or something. Or a team of SWAT therapists and a straightjacket, whichever.

But no –

"My wife and I," Zouchouten tells him matter-of-factly. "She remembers you too. We'll be there in maybe… maybe twenty minutes from now, okay?"

.

And so Kuro Koumokuten finds himself waiting in the warm dark fifteen minutes later, staring at a fountain. He trails a hand through the water, watching the reflections on its surface break apart and dance at the movement, no one else here at this time of night. He frowns at his own reflection and smacks the water, hard, as he thinks, _Water was always the worst one. Fire was always the best._

He thunks his head on a stone bench to make the thoughts go away, and that doesn't help either: _Earth was slow-moving and calm. Sky was quick and fidgety. Wind was vain and arrogant… and all of them were mine, loyal to the point of death. All five, dead from my orders. I never saw Varuna or Vahyu's bodies, but Aguni was sliced in half and Deva and Rudra were torn to pieces, less than half an hour before my life ended._

He considers holding his head underwater to make the insanity stop. He's just taking a deep breath to do so when a new voice cuts in, "I was surprised to learn you were here too."

He whips around and demands, "Who're you?"

A purple-haired man wearing a white hoodie crosses into the pool of light by the fountain, and as his mouth turns up in a smile, he gives Koumokuten the calm answer, "You wouldn't remember me, we've never met. But I know who you are, Kuro Koumokuten."

"I don't," Koumokuten mutters dejectedly. "Why don't you clue me in."

The guy stops right in front of him, and replies, "No, you'll figure it out soon enough. All I'll tell you is…" He pauses for effect, then smiles, "Gutsy Aguni was in love with you for years."

Koumokuten is suddenly in motion, grabbing this man's sweatshirt and hauling him down to his level. "Gutsy Aguni"?! Gods, that sounds so fucking _familiar,_ and as the purple-eyed interloper blinks, Koumokuten desperately chokes out, "What the hell are you?"

"Oh, there you go with 'Hell' again," the guy chuckles, patting his head. "You sure like that word. As for what I am, I'm just a simple traveler." He pries Koumokuten's hands off with a gentle yet very firm grip, and continues, "I wander through the city, taking in all the sights and sounds and events, and when the time is right, I show up to nudge people around."

Koumokuten's eyes narrow like those of a wolf with no more patience as he growls, "Oh yeah? How about I nudge you into traffic if you don't tell me what the _fuck _is going on?" he threatens, fully prepared to carry it out.

"Call me Ku," the guy laughs, so maddeningly nonchalant as he perches on the edge of the fountain like it's a parlor chair. "I'm just a ramblin' man who likes to watch the world. But you know… not all worlds are the same. Some of them run parallel to this one," he seriously proclaims.

Koumokuten stares, the only sounds far-off traffic and the fountain, and skeptically asks, "Okay, so you're an Aguni-type person, huh? Mystical stuff and reincarnation and hocus-pocus like that? Listen, don't preach at me, okay? I'm having a really awful night, and I'm not in the mood for that shit," he mutters, his fingers flexing like he longs to tear out somebody's jugular if that somebody won't quit it with the mysterious stuff.

Kujaku dips his cupped hand into the water and murmurs, "You don't really believe it's just hocus-pocus, if you'd just admit it. Think for a minute, Mr. 'I'm Sending You to Hell,' " he chides, smiling all the while.

Koumokuten's gaze unfocuses for just a second, then he glares at Kujaku and snaps, "Stop that."

Kujaku just shrugs and pours the water from his hand, saying, "If you'd stop being so stubborn, you'd realize that strange things have been happening to you. Feeling like Aguni was familiar even though you'd never laid eyes on her before, here in Tokyo. Piercing your ears, when you knew your boss would fly off the handle. Telling your daughter she was born to sing. Seeing things in your mind you've never seen here, yet they're known to you. Remembering the five who served you so loyally, and do you know, each of them was proud to die for you."

He looks the other man in the eye and informs him, "Aguni remembers, Tamara and Parvati never will. It doesn't work like that. Aguni _wanted _to find you again, and you _wanted _to find her in return. Tamara and her mother moved on, lived their lives, let you rest."

Koumokuten clutches his head in his hands and whines, "But I'm alive, I'm not dead!" Something occurs to him then, and he weakly asks, "Am I?" with his eyes closed.

Kujaku stands up, but as Koumokuten's eyes are closed he doesn't see it. Softly and solemnly, the mystery replies, "Not anymore you're not. And there's a reason for that."

And then silence, for so long Koumokuten finally raises his head and looks around. He's utterly alone, save for the moths fluttering in the lamplight. He stands up, turns in a confused circle, and sits back down, his arms limp and his legs stretched out in front of him. Great, now things are even more muddled, and he can't help but think, _I don't understand! How can –? _

"Koumokuten?"

It's a deep, familiar voice, coming from behind him and slightly to the right. He turns halfway, staring.

Zouchouten, wearing a polo shirt and slacks, has his arm around a lovely, much younger and paler woman. Her white hair is pulled partially back into a bun, the rest shorter and framing her face in a long bob with bangs. She's maybe six months pregnant, and she's holding Zouchouten's waist as well.

She doesn't look worried or angry to see Koumokuten like he expects her to, never mind why. Instead she looks sad, like she's encountering someone worthy of pity. And he somehow has the sense that this woman doesn't make a habit of pitying random strangers. She looks serious, stern even, no smile on her mouth but then again Zouchouten's not smiling either. Still, Zouchouten has smile lines on his face and she doesn't.

Koumokuten finds his voice and says, "You must be his wife."

She nods and moves forward, leaving Zouchouten to follow her as she answers, "Yes. My name is Karura," she tells Koumokuten, and for a moment he swears he sees a big white bird hovering over her and armor on her form.

_Sky Queen. _

He feels that he disliked her once, that he wronged her in some way, that she should be homicidal over what he helped do. But he also feels surprised that she's married to Zouchouten, and she clearly is, so he doesn't know what to think anymore. All he can do is go with what he sees now, really.

"Hi," he says rather stupidly, unable to think of anything better to say. He doesn't get up and bow, or even incline his head, which is very rude but screw it. Politeness can take a hike tonight, because he's dealing with too much to jump through society's manners hoops, hoops he's never liked anyway. It's a fact: Koumokuten is a rude guy, and even a politeness-on-steroids culture like Japan can't fully wring that out of him.

Zouchouten settles a hand on Karura's shoulder, looking very serious, and softly questions, "How much do you already know?"

Koumokuten thinks on that. Besides the obvious answer of "Clearly not enough"…

"Well, um. Parvati?" he tries weakly, and Zouchouten nods encouragement and replies, "Your wife, yes. And…?"

"Tamara, my daughter. And –"

And suddenly the words burst forth in a torrent: "And Aguni, who's a stripper who says she was a terrible person in a past life, who took pictures of us in bed and sent them to Parvati, and now Tamara hates me and Aguni says she used to be my bitch long ago, and I just met this wacky guy who _had _to be wearing contacts, and _he _says she was always in love with me and why the _hell _are you two married?"

Zouchouten and Karura stare at him, stunned, then take a deep breath in unison and pull themselves together as Koumokuten starts to hyperventilate slightly. Augh, it all sounds so much worse when he puts it like that! It sounds cheap and tawdry and scummy, and okay yeah, it is, but at least it has some nuance, not that he gave the tale any of that nuance. It's all too much to handle, and judging by their expressions, it's too much for them to handle too.

"Okay. So, let me see. You… had an affair with… _Aguni?_" Karura asks, sounding incredulous. "Really? Aguni? Aguni the perv who likes gorgeous men and hit on every one of them she saw?"

Koumokuten glares at her and impatiently growls, "Uh, yes. Yes, I do think I said that, and I don't know about the hitting on gorgeous men part, thanks for the insult. And like I also said, that weird guy with the purple eyes –"

Zouchouten is suddenly alert, and Koumokuten expects to see slitted pupils dilate in hunting mode as he urgently asks, "What weird guy? Kinda purplish wavy black hair, long-lashed eyes, pretty? Seemed to know it all? Popped up out of nowhere with a sense of humor and probably a nice laugh?"

Koumokuten nods silently, and Karura gasps, looking around and calling, "Kujaku?! _Kujaku?!_"

"_KUJAKU!_"

Zouchouten's bellow thunders in the air, and for a moment all three of them remember a battlefield and shouted commands. Then it passes, fades, like the name gone into the night with no response. Koumokuten finally breaks the silence with a flat, "I take it you know him."

Zouchouten nods, still peering into the darkness, and Karura shrugs slightly while replying, "I really don't, but Zouchouten does. I only met him once here, and while I heard of him back then, we never met face-to-face. He was good at not being found if he didn't want to be."

She pats her husband's arm and murmurs in a bit of a resigned voice, "He's gone, we won't find him this time either." Then she nods towards the exceedingly confused Koumokuten, and firmly suggests, "I think we should bring him back with us, to explain."

Zouchouten sighs and nods as well, saying, "In a minute. I'm still trying to catch up on all that's gone on here, now." He smiles at the other man, an expression of surprise, and smirks, "Aguni, huh? I never would've guessed."

"Aguni, yes, maybe you just weren't observant _back then_," Koumokuten snaps, exhausted, unable to know what's real anymore, and sick of all these questions when he wants answers. "So where is _back then_, who are you and what was I, where does this Kujaku character fit into things, and fuck it, I left my wife and I'm furious at Aguni, and I haven't slept for eighteen hours!"

The last words were a yell, frayed around the edges and trembling with nerves. Zouchouten and Karura exchange meaning-filled glances, then Karura nods once more and walks off in the direction she came from.

"Where's she going?" Koumokuten sighs without much enthusiasm, leaning his head into a hand. "Why are you still here?"

Zouchouten pulls him up, gently but firmly, and replies, "She's driving our car back. I'm either giving you directions or driving yours, and I'll answer any and all questions you have, to the best of my knowledge." He smiles again, and this time it's almost… fond. He goes on, "We're old friends, you and I."

Koumokuten just shrugs, pointing in the opposite direction and telling him, "My car's over there." As they start to walk, he asks a bit suspiciously, "How were we friends? Because I wasn't your wife's friend, that I can tell even if she's being nice to me now."

"Ah, back in Tenkai," Zouchouten answers with a smile, matching Koumokuten's pace easily. "We were two of the Four Gods. Ring any bells?"

"Yeah… is Bishamonten here too?" Koumokuten queries, giving up on trying to figure out why he's asking what he is. He's either hallucinating in a mental ward and the pills should kick in soon, or Aguni was right and this is some sort of… second life.

Zouchouten shakes his head rather sadly, and sighs, "Not that I know of. Although, I thought Karura, Kujaku and I were the only ones, and we're clearly not, so maybe he is somewhere around here."

"What about…" _Silver hair, three piercing eyes, cold laugh and sharp nails that once ripped a man's heart out on a marble floor... _"Taishakuten?"

Zouchouten almost shudders as he replies, "If he is, I hope I never meet him. He lived through it, you know. He killed Karura, he killed Kisshouten, he let me live just to suffer, and he denied a dying woman her last wish." Koumokuten looks over in time to see Zouchouten's eyes turn icy as he mutters, "Hopefully he's in Hell where he belongs, burning in a pit of eternal fire or stuck a pool of acid."

Koumokuten considers this, then ventures, "Well, wouldn't we be in Hell too? After that… that Kusumapura thing, and all those other tribes. And – aw fuck, I don't know!" He kicks a stone and sends it sailing into the darkness as he laments, "I don't know, and I should."

He feels like punching something, or sitting down on the ground and putting his hands over his ears, singing a nonsense song to drown out these thoughts crowding into his head. Everything's up in the air, nothing makes sense, and the more he finds out the more new questions clamor for answers. It feels like everything he knows here in Tokyo is wrong, except for Aguni, she feels right. Which is dumb, seeing as she wrecked his life not an hour ago.

"Hmm," Zouchouten rumbles, then thinks for a moment. Finally he reveals, "There's a… almost a threshold you have to cross in your mind, if Karura and I are any indication. Something has to happen, or maybe someone has to say something, and suddenly you'll get it all."

"Fabulous," the other man mumbles dejectedly, still thinking that he might well be hallucinating. "Simply fabulous."

.

Zouchouten and Karura live not only in a gated community, but in a mansion almost like some sort of palace, featuring white stone facing and extensive gardens, a massive garage and probably a pool, sauna, home theater, and some sort of sports court. Koumokuten can't help but compare this to his own house, which is merely two-story, always in need of repairs, and with neighbors on the left who bring the property value down. And a garage that barely fits two cars and three bikes in it.

"If you got a house like this," he mutters in a nearly dazed tone, "why the hell were you in that grocery store? Don't you have servants who do that?"

"Usually yes," Zouchouten admits, sounding a bit embarrassed, "but we were out of milk and I happened to be right by there. A fortuitous coincidence, so fortuitous I have to wonder if it was really a coincidence at all. Fate has a way of throwing you right where you need to be."

"How'd you make enough money to be able to afford this?" Koumokuten asks as he gets his suitcase out of the car.

"Hard work. I used to be an executive in another company, but then I met Karura, we realized who we were, and we decided to form a new one. After all," Zouchouten smirks rather proudly, "when you're the president and CEO of your own company, you can have your wife as your assistant, and I couldn't do that in the old one."

The inside of the house is just as nice, halls tiled with stone and pricy art on the walls. Zouchouten leads Koumokuten into the living room, where Karura rises from a comfy-looking chair. It's a beautiful living room, and somehow the shorter man isn't surprised that its décor is avian-themed, and the whole thing's done in shades of blue and white. She fits into this room, almost as if it was designed for her, and maybe it was. Koumokuten has the sense this has been Zouchouten's home for a while, so he probably redecorated when they got hitched.

Zouchouten begins in a somewhat formal tone, "Now, what we need to do is tell you all about –"

"What we need to do is find him a place to sleep," Karura firmly interrupts, heading towards the stairs. "He's clearly exhausted, and there'll be time in the morning to explain everything. If we tried it now, he might not be able to retain a lot of it."

Sleep? Okay, sleep is good, Koumokuten loves sleep. And she's correct, he would have a hard time dealing with floods of new knowledge when he's tired. So he follows her up the stairs, Zouchouten bringing up the rear like a one-man vanguard, and actually carrying Koumokuten's suitcase now.

Once upstairs, the hallway is – big surprise – very nice, with more lovely art and still done in white. He sees no less than three doors on each side of this very long hallway, and the end of it splits off into two corridors, so there are undoubtedly other rooms. Fancy, and if he wasn't so strung-out he would feel incredibly envious. As it is, he wonders how many kids they have, and if all the rooms but one are filled up.

And then, almost as if she read his mind…

"I want to show you someone," Karura says in a whisper, tiptoeing over to the first door on the right.

"Karura," Zouchouten whispers back, sounding a bit frightened, "is that… I mean, think of what he did to her. Don't you think it's –?"

"Why would he hurt her now?" she points out in a calm tone, starting to turn the knob. "What possible reason would there be to harm her in any way? She's just like any other little girl here, there's no Taishakuten to demand her presence."

Koumokuten, who's been getting steadily more and more annoyed that they're talking about him as if he isn't here, hisses, "Who do you want me to see? I want to sleep, dammit. I don't want to… see…"

He trails off, staring at a little girl with long white hair and the same pale skin as Karura's. She looks to be about six, cuddling a teddy bear in her sleep with an adorably serene expression on her face. She's just adorable, period, with a heart-shaped face and long dark lashes on big eyes, which he's willing to bet anything are the same blue as Karura's. Even her hair looks a lot like the woman's with the center-parted bangs, and he has the sense that when it's not loose for sleep, it's partially pulled up like Karura's too.

"Karyoubinga," Koumokuten breathes, and both Zouchouten and Karura nod solemnly. And he suddenly just _knows _that she sings so well people would pay big money to hear her, and that she loves her older sister so much it's like Karura is her mother. He also knows that if he grabs her wrist and hauls her away she'll scream and start to choke, unable to breathe the air away from the Sky Castle –

He shakes his head violently, then manages a soft, "Is she sick here?"

"No," Zouchouten tells him, relieved and grateful. "She's in perfect health. We've tried to get her to remember, but she thinks we're pulling her leg with an elaborate and unnecessary joke. I don't know if she'll ever realize what all of us were."

"Okay," Koumokuten replies, because he can't think of anything else to say. He watches Karura close the door so quietly he can't hear it, and turn to go back down the hallway.

Zouchouten watches her go, then turns briskly and leads Koumokuten to the second door on the left. The room revealed when it's opened simply screams "comfort," and it even has a little collection of bird figurines on the dresser. The sight of the luxurious bed makes Koumokuten's body long to get in it, but his mind suddenly wants to whine, "Tell me who I am and explain all this, because it's still too confusing."

Zouchouten puts the suitcase near the dresser and smiles, "If you need anything during the night, just knock on the door right across the hallway. You've got your own bathroom," he points to that, "and I promise you, tomorrow we'll tell you everything you need to know and probably some things you don't. Hopefully some of that will break that mental barrier."

"Thanks," Koumokuten replies a bit numbly, still reeling from numerous prior events. The pictures, leaving Parvati, Aguni's confession, leaving her, Kujaku the mystical wanderer, and the fact that a wealthy business high-roller and his wife say they knew him from a past life, and are putting a near-total stranger up in their mansion. It's too much.

"Goodnight, then," Zouchouten farewells with a smile, and with a pat to Koumokuten's shoulder he's headed for the door, opening it and going through. But before he closes that door, he murmurs, "Lord General Koumokuten of the Westland… I'm glad to have found you here as well."

And the name widens Koumokuten's eyes, strikes a chord deep in his psyche.

"Say that again," he orders, harshly and in a whisper. "And what was Aguni? Tell me, I need to know. It's important."

It is; it's been lurking in the back of his mind, hiding in the shadows and ducking away whenever he turns to look at it. But when he knows what she was, when her title and his title come together in his brain, then _everything _will make sense, _everything. _

Zouchouten picks up on this intensity, and solemnly replies, "Lord General Koumokuten of the Westland… she was one of your Five Gods of the Westland, Fire God Aguni."

And it's _there_, staring him in the face, over a thousand years of Tenkai. All of it, from his childhood as the spoiled prince of his tribe to the rebellion against Tentei, from the gutsy girl holding her dead mother to the masked woman requesting, "Please leave them to me." He left her kneeling in the snow mere days before Yasha killed him, his body falling apart while he was still alive.

He staggers back, having trouble breathing, as Zouchouten nods and says softly, "And I think now you know. And before you ask: I don't know why we're here, why we aren't in the Land of the Dead or Hell… but I think it has to do with people we loved and lost. I lost Karura. I watched Taishakuten drive his sword through her body, and I watched that body disintegrate into feathers. I never told her I loved her, but –"

"We could all tell," Koumokuten interrupts, suddenly wanting to scream with laughter, and to wail a lament at the same time. "I mean, sheesh, she woulda been executed if you hadn't begged for her life. Bishamonten probably did a happy dance when he thought she committed suicide, so you wouldn't be tempted to do something stupid. You musta been completely shocked when she came back."

"Ah," Zouchouten chuckles, smiling now, "but I was aware she was alive. Anyway," he says, businesslike and in paternal mode, "it's a quarter to one at night, you haven't slept for almost nineteen hours, and we can catch up in the morning."

"Yeah," Koumokuten agrees wholeheartedly, and Zouchouten notes that his bearing has changed, becoming a lot haughtier and almost aggressive. "See you in the morning, General Zouchouten of the Southland. Go back to the Sky Queen, like you always wanted to."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

As the door closes, Koumokuten crosses to the mirror in the bathroom and stares at his reflection. He's minus that totally awesome turban, and the big red hoop earrings, and the facial tattoos, and the nice fancy robes and the rings, but he finally really knows who he's looking at. Damn, his life here sucks in comparison to his life in Tenkai, but maybe that was deliberate on Fate's part. And maybe Aguni as a stripper is punishment for all she did too.

And he was right earlier… he did want her for so long. For over a hundred and fifty years, ever since he realized that she wasn't a child anymore and she was _beautiful._ But he never really dwelled on it, just moved it to the back of his mind and watched her from afar. What else could he have done? It would have been even more scandalous then than it is now, not to mention that Parvati was Taishakuten's second cousin and as such had a status that wouldn't have let him put her aside. Plus he loved her then, and though he was tempted he never strayed.

And now Aguni's ruined it all, hasn't she? He can't trust her anymore. How indescribably ironic, that his most loyal and trusted servant was the one to turn his life on its head and connive behind his back.

But…

"_Because I __love__ you…"_

And he's suddenly so exhausted he can barely stand, all the adrenaline and anger unable to keep him going any longer. He turns away from the mirror and nearly stumbles to the bed, taking off socks, watch, shirt, belt, pants, and ponytail holder, but not bothering to change into pajamas. Obviously he won't be going downstairs in the morning wearing only his underwear, but it doesn't freaking matter what he wears for bed, because it's only him here and he's so tired.

He dreams for hours. Memories of Tenkai, of blood and flames and arrogant aggression. In each one Aguni is there, grinning at him and obeying without question, and he can't believe he never noticed her longing expression.

And memories of Tokyo, also of Aguni. And hopeful dreams of the future, of Tamara throwing herself into his arms and bawling, "I missed you, Father! I don't care if you love her, because I love my daddy!" And Aguni laughs, and smiles at Tamara, and Parvati sighs and says, "Do what you want."

"_Aguni remembers… Tamara and Parvati never will…"_

By the time he wakes up, it's 10:00 AM and he's made his decision.

.

"Aguni?" Koumokuten calls, knocking on her door half an hour later and having left the suitcase back at Zouchouten and Karura's. "Aguni? Answer the door please! …Aguni?"

This is ominously odd. She works during the late afternoons and evenings, and usually sleeps in. Well, Koumokuten decides as he fumbles for the key she gave him, maybe she's just out running errands. Grocery store, Laundromat, convenience store, bank, getting everyday things to keep her apartment running… there are many places she could be. He'll just stroll on in and greet her when she comes back with a promise of "I'll stay with you, because I love you too."

And yet that feeling of unease, of something being wrong, is back. Just like the day she sent that signal, he knows something's up. So he unlocks the door, which he's never done before because she's always been here before, and steps inside.

"Aguni?" he echoes his earlier call, but no response. He glances around, and everything seems normal. No signs of a struggle, and he tries to tell himself that he's overreacting, and she's probably just in bed, avoiding him. Well, he can't honestly blame her for that, after the way he threw her to the floor, yelled at her, and stormed away.

"Hey," he sighs apologetically, knocking on the bedroom door. "I need to talk to you. If you don't answer me by the time I count to three, I'm coming in."

Silence.

"All right then. One… two… three."

And he opens the door, only to see a neatly made bed and no Aguni. Perplexed, he starts to turn around and go back out to the living room, but suddenly his eye falls on her closet, wide open and completely bare. This is bad, more than bad in fact. No clothes in the closet is a terrible sign, and he yanks a dresser drawer open to see the complete absence of garments there as well. And now that he frantically looks around, her jewelry box is missing, and he's willing to bet that the stash of bills in her convertible couch/bed is missing too.

She's _gone_.

Swearing a blue streak, he dashes back out to the living room, scanning with all his might for a note. But there's nothing taped to the TV, nothing lying on the tiny end table, nothing pinned to the couch or chairs –

"She left last night," a quiet voice comes from the doorway, and he turns to see one of Aguni's neighbors, a plump older woman, leaning against the frame with a sad expression on her face. "She packed her bags, left the rent for this month and a letter telling the manager she was leaving, and drove off at 3:00 in the morning. Didn't say goodbye, didn't make arrangements for the furniture or electronics… just left. Crying too, but trying to hold it back."

"Where'd she go?" he asks desperately, because this _can't _be happening, she _can't _have just run away just when he finally knows everything! She can't be gone when he's decided he wants to stay with her.

The neighbor sighs, shrugs, and replies, "I don't know. No one here does. Maybe she told her work, but when I asked her what was going on, all she said was, 'Leave me alone!' So I did."

Koumokuten mutters something like, "Way to be helpful," walks down to the manager's office, and makes arrangements for him to hold the furniture, TV, and sound system for a month. Almost in a daze, he tells him, "If she's not back by then, it's yours."

He drives back to Zouchouten and Karura's mansion in another almost-daze, smirks despite it all as the gate security lets him through, and pounds hard on the front door. Both of them took today off, and they look at him with worried expressions when that door opens. He has no Aguni with him, and he seems upset, so they brace themselves for bad news.

"She's gone," he bluntly informs them, with a desperate tone to the words. "She left, didn't tell anyone where. I scared her off."

Zouchouten seems to deflate, his shoulders slumping and his mouth turning down, as Karura sighs and cautiously murmurs, "Do you want to know the whole story of Tenkai now? It might be helpful, and it's not like you'll miss her by moments if you take the time to hear it. It's… dark and surprising, but I think you might need to know it."

Koumokuten feels like saying, "I died, she died, that's really all that concerns me," but then wonders what happened to Tamara. Did his daughter die too? Horrible if she did, but he realizes that he has to know. And if Taishakuten killed her for her father's failure, well, if he ever meets the god-king here he'll shoot him in the face in revenge. It wouldn't surprise him in the least if that psycho took his anger out on an innocent young woman.

So he nods, follows them to the living room, sits, and listens. It's a near-terrifying story, and it's not the whole one because Taishakuten never told anyone else why he did it. Hanranya, Kujaku, and Yasha knew, but Zouchouten doesn't know that, so all Koumokuten gets is what the General of the Southland and the Sky Queen went through. He learns of Jikokuten and has a hard time believing it, then remembers her aura and her glare one day. He learns of Ashura's true power, and nearly shudders. He learns of the high death toll, and he learns how Tenou, Zouchouten, Hanranya, and Kujaku rebuilt, with some additional help from Hakuryuu and Seiryuu.

Zouchouten wraps up with, "And Kujaku brought Ashura back with his own suicide. I don't know where he and Yasha went, because once Tenou was crowned I ended my life to see Karura again. I lived this life a driven Japanese businessman, until one day I met my new assistant in an aviary. We both felt like we knew each other, so we went out to breakfast… and Kujaku was our waiter. Once we remembered we tried to find him, but he was gone. And we thought that was that, until we found you."

Koumokuten shakes his head slowly, appalled at so much of the story, and finally sums it up in his signature profane manner: "Fate fucked us all up big-time."

"Yes, it did," Karura flatly agrees. "But Fate also seems to have offered us another chance. And I'm downright positive that it sent you and Zouchouten to that grocery store at the same time. Unfortunately, your life seems to have been rather derailed, and from what we've learned it was pretty rotten before last night as well."

"There's a place for you in Garuda Corporation," Zouchouten assures Koumokuten as he pats his shoulder. "While you were gone, I researched your work at Shinseiki. You do good work, you're worth much more than they pay you there, and even if you didn't and weren't, we'd find you a place to stay as you go through the divorce. You're my friend, after all."

"Thanks, but I can't work for you now," Koumokuten says firmly, standing up. "I gotta find Aguni, I can't just let her slip through my fingers."

Zouchouten seems almost upset, a concerned light in his eyes, and he asks reasonably, "But where will you go?"

Koumokuten just shrugs, "Wherever I have to, really. She's somewhere, and I'll find her. I'll bribe people if I need to, and she's so striking people will remember her. It's Japan, after all, and the Japanese like everything to be homogenous. She'll stick out like a sore thumb."

Zouchouten heaves a sigh, clearly thinking this is a bad idea, but Karura nods in an encouraging manner and says, "Then best of luck to you."

Koumokuten gives her an odd look. Why is this woman holding out an olive branch? The last time he saw her, she was killing his soldiers and he planned to kill _her_ after Yasha.

It's been bugging him for a while, so he asks her harshly, "Best of luck, huh? Why do _you _care? I get why hubby cares and I'm grateful, but why are you wishing me well?"

Karura's eyes narrow a bit as she replies, "Because I am mature enough to realize that things change. I still don't like you, and on my own wouldn't have put you up in my house, but Zouchouten was thrilled to find out you were here too. And when his friend is in trouble, it would be cruel of me to refuse to help you. Now, if you were to verbally or physically attack me I might have second thoughts, but as it is, I honestly do hope things will turn out well for you."

Koumokuten feels rather churlish now, and awkwardly replies, "Then thanks. But I gotta go now," he fervently insists, back on familiar footing. "I'm quitting the job from Hell, and I'm going to find Aguni. I'll have my phone, so Parvati's lawyer can get ahold of me. I'll bring my laptop and hire my own lawyer, but the most important thing is to find her."

"What about Tamara?" Zouchouten softly queries, and Koumokuten's confidence falters. But he replies, "I'll explain as much of this as she'll understand, and pray she'll accept it. It's all I can do."

He heads for the stairs, and says over his shoulder, "I'll tell you when I find her."

And that's that. He packs his bags, smacks Zouchouten on the back, nods at Karura, and strides down the sidewalk with his suitcase rolling behind him. This is it, something he won't be dissuaded from, and if it takes him decades he's going to see Aguni again. It's maybe not _destiny_, but he can no more let her go like this than he can breathe underwater. If she wanted to find him again, and he wanted to find her in return, there was a reason they met here and he'll be damned if he loses her again.

Zouchouten watches him go with a saddened expression on his face, and finally murmurs, "It's punishment, I think, for what he did in Tenkai. Fate seems to exact a price from those of us who were Taishakuten's dogs."

"Yes, but you found me again," Karura reminds him, making him look at her. "Maybe he'll find her. We can't do any more, Zouchouten. We did our part, you offered him a place, and he chose to look for a woman who ran from him instead. So I suppose what I'm saying is hope, but don't dwell on it."

"That's good advice," he admits, turning to go back inside. "You always were very wise."

"I try," Karura replies with a smile, closing the door. "That's all anyone can do: try."

.

Aguni too carries a suitcase. Two, actually, and she has two big boxes back in the car. She's on the other side of Tokyo, and it couldn't be more different: rundown, dreary, with litter on the street and people dressed in much cheaper clothes than designer suits. She lets the suitcases go, and fumbles with the key. Motels… ugh. But until she finds a job and another apartment, it'll have to do.

_You did the right thing, _she tells herself, a mantra to blot out the urge to run back to the car and drive to Koumokuten's door. _Now he has no choice but to return to his wife and his daughter. Now he can't seek you out and waste time with you. Now he __has__ to love her again._

It was a harsh action, duplicitous as well, to gather such images for so long then send them to an unsuspecting Parvati. More than half of Aguni wanted to forget all about it, thank her friend for her help and let things go on as they had been. She knew she would hurt him, but she is convinced that she made the right decision. Sometimes in life, you have to hurt someone a little to help them a lot.

And hurt yourself so much, she sighs as she sets the suitcases down, that all you feel like doing is curling up into a sobbing ball and never straightening your limbs again. But pain… she's no stranger to pain.

She goes back out for Box Number One, then Box Number Two, and can't help but think that she must have angered the powers that be in Tenkai, for her to be punished so soundly here in Tokyo. Her life was hard, and it's going to be harder, but when she was with Koumokuten it didn't feel so bad. Yet she knows full well why he came to her, she thinks with perfect conviction as she puts the second box on the floor.

Sex. Lying with her, fucking, getting it on, banging her, intercourse, screwing… so many terms for that one carnal thing, the act that obsesses humanity and reduces the iciest, most cultured person to a primitive ape-thing, and they couldn't care less. _That_ was what brought him to her, not an inexorable pull of memory and romantic longing. No burning desire for her soul, just an instinctive desire for her body, and maybe any stripper who'd been nice to him would have become his mistress.

So she got out while she still could, while _he _still could. It hurt, it stung, it burned like fire in her chest, but it worked. He stormed out, and she knew she could no longer bear to stay in that apartment where he'd spent so much time. Better to have a clean slate, or as clean as possible.

And she cried. She hates crying! She never used to cry in Tenkai, not since the day she saw her dead family. No, she locked it inside, turned it into anger, and unleashed it onto the people she was told to fight. No tears, just conceited rage. …Well, not entirely. She used to sniffle and wipe a few tears away all alone on the warpath, Koumokuten merely five or ten feet away in his tent, for all intents and purposes behind a locked, barricaded door. And she hated crying then too, which was probably why she had a man almost every night, when she wasn't menstruating of course.

Ah, the men. Some were her soldiers, thrown into battle the next day with no favoritism at all. Some were Koumokuten's guards, and she always wondered if they carried tales to him. Some were rival soldiers from the Northland or Southland, picked up during concerted offensives. Some were handsome tribal leaders, bored with the courtesans at Zenmi. Some were sexy servants, awed by her power.

And some were future or former enemies, browbeaten into bedding her. Once she slept with a man and killed him a day later, as he stared at her in astonishment. And all of them, every single partner, from Bishamonten's second-in-command to the lowliest servant boy, meant nothing at all.

Of course it felt good, why else would she do it? Of course she had fun, sex is wonderful and she was always in charge. Of course a few wanted to love her, some men adore being the submissive one in a relationship. But they were just fucktoys, all of them. She never felt a thing for them except very strong lust, which had a habit of blotting out that terrifying feeling of wanting her master.

And it _was_ terrifying. At first she was afraid something was physically wrong with her, the way her chest would seize up when he smiled at her, the way her heart would thud so painfully. By that point there had been a number of other men, none of which she cared for, and none of them had provoked this reaction.

Once she almost asked him, "Master Koumokuten, did you put a spell on me? Are you experimenting with your magic perhaps, seeing if you can make me go mad?"

And he would have given her a quizzical look and replied, "What the hell? If you feel sick, you should see a healer. I didn't do anything to you, Aguni."

And as the years went by, she used to wonder what would happen if she just told him, "I'm in love with you, Master Koumokuten." He might've gotten angry and told her, "No. Get that idea out of your head, because I don't love you and I'm married anyway."

Or he might have stared at her, then thrown his head back and laughed, "For real? Dumb broad. What, did you think I'd agree to an affair while my wife's so highly born, and I've got so much to lose? Idiot. Go find yourself another man, and don't bother me with this again."

It does not occur to her that he probably would have glanced around to see if anyone was watching, and if not, reached out for her with a whispered, "We can't tell _anyone_, but come with me." It does not occur to her that he probably would've decided to have an affair with her, most likely not leading to a separation from Parvati, but more than likely to a hidden love.

As it is, she wonders what he's telling his family now. Undoubtedly they're upset, but surely they'll come around, Tamara probably before Parvati. But Tamara, surely Tamara thinks her father can do no wrong.

Oh, Tamara in Tenkai… a spoiled singer, a girl who wanted Prince Tenou so very badly but was ignored. A pretty maiden who once asked Aguni, "Don't you ever get lonely, being the only woman in the Five Gods of the Westland? Surrounded by men all the time with few other women to talk to?"

Aguni considered how to reply to this. Her immediate instinct was to reply, "No, because I understand men better anyway, and I don't like most other women." But as she thought more about it, she wanted to sigh, "Sometimes. You want a friend who you can commiserate with when you get your monthly bleedings right before a major battle, and to smirk and gossip about men in bed with."

But what she said was, "I'm just as good as they are, and I don't need any women to talk to."

And now she wonders if Tamara was trying to reach out to her. Was she extending an invitation to _be _a friend? Or was she just being polite to one of her father's underlings, and privately thought Aguni was some sort of butch man-wannabe?

She heaves a defeated sigh, sitting down on the cheap couch. So many memories… so many years in Tenkai, so many scenes of her life. Like the day she graduated from a practice sword to a real one, and how it fit in her hand perfectly. The way she wielded it so well, having obsessively trained with the practice weapon and watched warriors as they sparred.

And the first time she lay with a man, straddling him and forcing herself down onto his sex, and the tearing inside that made her grit her teeth and tell herself, _Just once, and never again. After this it will always feel good, because I'll make sure they please me._

And her first kill: what a glorious feeling! And she exulted in it, did not cry later or have trouble breathing in shock at the knowledge that she ended someone's life. No, she laughed aloud and went for the next one, because it filled her with a rush of power and pride.

And when, one day, Koumokuten grinned at her and praised, "I knew you were strong. Look at you, already a captain. See Aguni, you're a natural at this," and she suddenly wondered, _What would __he__ be like in bed?_ and imagined him with her the next time she slept with a man.

And the day the former Fire God died, mortally wounded while destroying a tribe of traitors. Koumokuten looked at his pool of minions hopeful for the position, and said with perfect conviction, "Aguni will be the new Fire God. There's no doubt in my mind she'll serve me well."

And Varuna, Vahyu, Deva, and Rudra, her rivals and comrades. A conceited oaf who was the first to go, an arrogant masculine beauty who failed as well, a stolid man with a mace, and a hyperactive font of sarcasm waving to her as she left Koumokuten's side for the last time. And watching him turn his back and ride away on that war stallion, never even saying goodbye, because he was so confident that she would triumph over Yasha. Or because he didn't care, or a combination of the two.

So now… he will be angry, if he remembers and even if he doesn't, for what she did to him, but she did what she had to do! Because he _loves _Parvati, he _has _to! She watched him with her so many times and wanted to cry. He'd smile and kiss her cheek, let her walk all over him, sheepishly say, "Okay honey, sure you can have that (insert trinket here)." And when he introduced her to Aguni, he proudly said, "This is my wife," because he was lucky to have such a beautiful woman at his side.

So no Koumokuten for Aguni. No lover to share the knowledge of Tenkai with, no friend to say, "You don't have to always be so strong," no master to stand with her and back her up when things get hard. Nothing but shame and regret, nothing but memories that she has to try to forget so she can go on with this second life.

But the memories crowd her mind's eye, jostling for position and making that nearly impossible: Koumokuten as one of the Four Gods, smirking as he encouraged his daughter to pursue Tenou, because it was yet another avenue of power. Koumokuten as a businessman, tugging absentmindedly at the tie he hates and buying her a Cosmo.

Koumokuten in bed, wearing nothing at all and saying, "You're so _passionate. _But don't mark me, or my wife'll know." Koumokuten wearing an overcoat and with snow in his hair, grinning, "C'mon, let's go down to the river and watch the birds." Koumokuten in shorts and a polo shirt on one of those stolen day trips, laughing and telling her, "Aw, you can kiss me, who'll know what's going on? We'll probably never see these people again."

She sniffs a bit, wipes her eyes, and forces one more memory into her mind: Koumokuten in her apartment, snarling, "Goodbye. You got your wish, I can't stay," as he stomped out the door.

_Go home to your wife and make her happy…_

She nods to herself, stands up, and goes to look for a job, because she will never be with the man she loves again, how can she?

.

As Aguni gets back into her car, Koumokuten steps out of his at the office. Running off without letting anyone know that he's leaving is a very stupid move, and he is not a stupid man. Not to mention that today is payday, and the funds will come in handy. All he has to do is get that paycheck, tell them he's quitting, and then he can walk out of Shinseiki Production Company without a backwards glance, because he's certainly never going to return here.

_So… this should be interesting, _he thinks as he opens the office door. Heads swivel to look at him, and a low mutter swells in the room. Something's up, they can all tell, because he didn't call in earlier and he's good about that. And now here he is, striding towards the –

"KURO!"

Yakinawa storms up to him, incensed, and howls, "Kuro, you're five hours late, you incompetent, lazy, immature, dunce of a –"

"_Shut_ _up_."

It's an imperious hiss, and the entire room freezes. Yakinawa blinks at the man standing before him, clad all in black and sporting those earrings again, no tie and no more patience. He seems taller somehow, certainly much more confident, and suddenly very intimidating. Plus the look in his eyes makes one think of some sort of executioner, one who just _loves_ his job.

"Taka," Koumokuten smirks as his eyes bore into Yakinawa's, "go to hell. And I want my paycheck, you _excuse _for a man."

Ah, it feels _good, _finally being what he was meant to be, and he mentally purrs, _Back to basics, fucker. My personality is far superior to yours, you little weasel. And I'm in a very bad mood._

Kano, poor stupid fatass, tries to earn brownie points with a whiny, "Kuro, don't talk to Mr. Yakinawa like that! You –"

A slight narrowing of black eyes shuts him right up, and various cubicle dwellers back away slowly, recognizing danger when they see it. Something's different here, and they want no part of it. But Yakinawa clings to his power, snapping, "Kuro, you're fi–"

"Quitting, yes," Koumokuten corrects in a murmur, taking a single step forwards. "But I want my paycheck. You too pussy to give it to me, Taka?" He grins malevolently and adds, "Either you give me that thing or I sue you for workplace harassment." He has no lawyer, but hey, Yakinawa doesn't know that.

And Yakinawa gives in. Bullying an office drone with no spine was perfectly okay, but challenging a man who seems ready to take this further is a bad move. He sniffs, "Fine, Kuro. I'll get it, wait right there."

Then he rallies a sneer and a clipped, "Clean out your desk."

Koumokuten casts an unimpressed glance at the thing. Paper, paper clips, notebooks and pens and pencils, a calculator and rubber bands… hardly worth it. As Yakinawa goes into his office, Koumokuten picks up the one thing worth taking with him, Tamara's picture. He leaves the one with Parvati, and they can throw it away for all he cares, because that family is over. Tamara, though, he will always love, even if she's furious at him and continues to side with her mother.

When Yakinawa comes back out with the paycheck in his hand, Koumokuten snatches it without giving him a chance to say anything, then turns on his heel. But he's a man who likes to have the last word, so before he clears the door, he turns back and says loudly, "Well loyal Yakinawa slaves, you have my sincere pity, and hope that someday you'll all land a different, more _mature _manager."

And with that he sweeps from the room, wearing an evil grin. Oh, if only he had that lovely double-ended sword right now, he would have hurled it at Yakinawa and pinned him to a wall, like Rasetsu except better. Oh well, you can't always get what you want!

He's reminded of that when he shows back up at his house, and Parvati at first refuses to let him inside. She glares and snarls and stalls, until finally he uses the General of the Westland voice and barks, "Until this divorce goes through, this is still _my _house too. We paid for it with funds from both of us, and if I have to involve the police I will. Now let me in!"

She does, with a sneer of "And I suppose you want the house in the proceedings."

"Nope," he tells her shortly, mentally calculating how many boxes it will take to move his stuff. "You can have it, but my lawyer will be in touch about what I _should_ get. Look, all I want right now is to talk to Tamara."

"She doesn't want to talk to you," Parvati informs him with a sort of snide glee. "She skipped school today she was so distraught. Seeing your father fornicating with a whore tends to make people upset, not like you care what we feel."

"I care what _she_ feels," he tells her in a deadly, cold tone that makes her falter. "I'll never stop loving _her_. Now, don't you dare press your ear against the door, okay? This is between me and Tamara."

It's a cruel paragraph, but he no longer feels so bad about leaving his wife. He is, after all, a man known in Tenkai for his ruthless personality.

Parvati glares but nods with sharp, jerky movements. He graces her with a nod of his own and climbs the stairs, his heart in his throat. What if Tamara refuses to listen? What if she hates him, for good? What if she decides she wants nothing to do with him ever again, for what he did? What if she attacks him, a flurry of slaps and screamed sentiments?

He knocks on the door as gently as he can, and calls, "Tamara? It's your father."

Silence, and he thinks she's ignoring him. But then he hears movement, and she violently opens the door, glaring at him with her hair loose and still wearing her nightgown. But there are tears in her eyes and her lower lip is trembling. He wants to hug her, but no, that's not the best move right now.

"You're b-back," she says in a quavering voice, then asks, with heartbreaking hope, "Did you change your mind about the divorce?"

He shakes his head, and as her face falls he sighs, "No, honey. I'm sorry you're hurting, but –"

"Then why are you here?" she demands as she glares some more, folding her arms across her chest.

"I'm here to tell you that no matter what happens, I'll always love you. Now, it's perfectly understandable for you to be upset, and I swear I don't want you to be in pain. But Tamara, baby, this is something I _have _to do," he insists, putting as much firm emotion as he can into his words. "I no longer love your mother, and it wouldn't be fair to her – to any of us – if I tried to pretend I did. Now, don't you want me to be –?"

"I want you to suffer, for the way you lied to us and left Mother for that – that slut with stupid hair and man shoulders!" she yells angrily, swiping at her tears. "I bet she'll steal all your money and go for another man when she gets tired of you! I bet she only slept with you because you paid her! She's a… a whorish bitch!"

"Her name is Aguni, Tamara," he softly corrects. "And we love each other. I didn't pay her anything, and whenever I tried to give her somethi–"

"I don't care what her name is!" Tamara snarls, shoving at his chest. "_She's _the reason you're leaving! If she wasn't around, I'd still have my father here, and… and we'd all b-be… we'd be like before." She breaks into hiccupping sobs then, her eyes shut tight but her tears falling anyway.

She's right, in a way. In another way, she's wrong, because Aguni tried to make him stay with Parvati. Should he tell Tamara that? Or should he just say nothing and hug her?

But she won't let him touch her, that he can tell. So he instead sighs, "Tamara, you probably won't believe this, but she told me to stay with your mom. She tried to break it off because she wanted me to be happy with you two. But honey, I'm sorry, I can't do that. I have to end this marriage that shoulda been over for a long time."

Tamara glowers through her tears and sniffles, "You told me you'd always be here! You said you'd never leave me! Remember? When I was ten and my friend Yuri's mom ran off with her dentist! You _promised _me you'd always be with me and protect me!"

"_Any parent who tells their child that is a lying bozo…" _his own voice echoes in his head, and he never thought that sentiment would come back to bite him on the ass. But it's true, isn't it? Yes, yes it is.

"I'm sorry, Tamara," he tells her quietly, tears in his own eyes. "I'm sorrier for this than anything else. But life never follows the path you try to lay out for it, and –"

"WHY?!" she shrieks, scared and humiliated and enraged. "Why can't you stay? Why can't you _pretend_ for _my _sake, Father?! Why can't you try to work things out with Mother?"

"Because Tamara… that's something I can no longer do," he sighs defeatedly, putting a hand to an earring as a comforting motion. "One day you'll understand why –"

"Fine. Fine then!" she screams, spinning away and crossing her arms again. "I hate you, and I never want to see you ever again. When you call me I'll hang up, when you show up at the door I'll slam it in your face, and when you email me I'll send it straight to the recycle bin. You brought this on yourself, you cheating _creep_."

"_Go away, you creep!" _another girl screams in his mind, but this time it hurts much, much more.

"Tamara…" he tries, his worst fears realized, "please, honey, don't –"

"Go to hell," she sniffles as she makes a rude gesture, then wipes her eyes. "I mean it, I hate you now. Leave and let me heal, you son of a bitch. It's the least you can do, after all the terrible things you did to me and Mother. After the way you chose that whore over us."

So, a physical pain in his heart, he sighs and says solemnly, "Then… goodbye, Tamara. I love you, and I hope someday you'll let me see you again." And he turns and leaves.

.

It hurts. It hurts almost as much as Aguni's absence, Tamara's proclamation that she never wants to see him again. For a couple moments he has to just sit there and fight off tears in his car, but eventually he pulls himself together, because there is nothing else he could do. So now, as he walks into the Seibu-bi strip club, he thinks to himself, _All I can do but leave her alone now, and try to make her change her mind later._

He buys his obligatory drink, but before it even comes he hunts the owner down, and asks him, "Where did Aguni go?" He's certain and correct that she quit this job. Because after all, why would she stay in a place he knows?

But the owner frowns and tells him, "We don't give out personal details of employees, sir. Aguni no longer works here and that's all I'll say."

"Look," Koumokuten snaps in exasperation, "I swear to you, I'm not an obsessed perv who wants to chain her in my basement and rape her. I _love _her, and we…" He gives up, because apparently "I love her" was a stupid thing to say, as the owner is giving him a "You're a creepy stalker all right" glare.

Koumokuten sighs and turns to go, muttering a testy, "Fine. Whatever. If she ever comes back, tell her Koumokuten's trying to find her again." Aguni won't, but he has to _try. _The owner won't tell her that either, but he has to say _something._

So he tries other clubs, but nothing. Then he tries hotels and motels, but nothing again. Then he tries places they went, but still no Aguni. And everywhere he goes, whichever restaurant he eats at, whichever gas station he goes into, he asks about her. But the answers are never what he wants to hear.

"Gassenka Aguni? Never heard of her."

"Dark skin and blond hair? A ganguro? You could try the club scene, I suppose."

"No, I can't help you. Sorry."

"Well, a friend of mine has that coloring, but she's fifty-five years old and, shall we say, not very attractive, so I don't think that's who you're looking for."

Then he belatedly hits on the idea of hiring a private investigator, going with the first one he sees in the search results. The guy gives him a once-over and then asks, in a rather bored tone, "Why do you want me to find her? She owe you money? She your daughter?"

"No," Koumokuten snaps, feeling a pang in his chest at the word "daughter." "She's my… girlfriend. If you find her for me I'll pay you double."

The PI practically salivates. Double rewards! He asks no questions of "Are you stalking her?" and agrees to search, "And I require a payment up front."

He gets it.

.

"Gassenka, Watase's sick. Can you cover his shift tomorrow?"

Aguni, former Fire God and former exotic dancer, now a waitress with her hair pulled into a no-nonsense braid, nods in eager agreement. Another shift means more money, and money's something she desperately needs. Sure another shift also means that she won't have a day off for ten days straight, but she can handle it for the sake of payment.

"Yes, Mr. Minase. Gladly," she tells him, picking up an empty glass and setting it on the tray she's carrying.

Mr. Minase, an elderly man with a kind smile, turns that smile to her as he replies, "Thank you. I've never seen anyone who works like you do, Gassenka. And in Japan too, land of workaholics," he chuckles.

Aguni shrugs and nods again, matter-of-factly replying, "Well, I need the money, sir."

She has some saved up, and dancing paid much more than this, but she can't go back to that as a living because after all, she only did it in the first place because she was driven to it. It had been thrilling at first, all that attention, but also soul-draining. How can one really believe they're worth more than their appearance if that's the thing they get paid for, the only thing the audience cares about? And once the realization of Tenkai hit it was such a step downwards.

_I used to command armies. Using my appearance to get money is pathetic compared to using my martial power, _she thinks in sour disgust as she carries the tray back to the kitchen.

Yet at the same time, there are no swords or horses or traitors to kill now. And with no degree, and already having been "damaged goods" thanks to her father in this life, stripping provided a much-needed out. She left home the day she turned eighteen and never, ever looked back. She has a brief fantasy of seeking out Gassenka Taro and making him pay in an exceedingly painful way, but sitting in prison isn't something she'd like to do. So here she is, making her way in the world as a waitress, with Koumokuten undoubtedly having patched things up with Parvati.

Aguni hates Parvati, and always has. She's never laid eyes on her or Tamara in Tokyo, but she remembers her well. Shrill, short-tempered, and useless in her eyes (the woman never even held a sword!), Parvati had everything _Aguni _wanted. Doesn't matter. She won't get it, so best to bury it in her mind and work as hard as she can.

It's been almost a month: twenty-five days since she left her old apartment. She's found a new one, cheaper and more rundown than the last, but it's something. There's just a table and a couple chairs for furniture, but she uses a futon and boxes for the rest, and when she has the money she'll buy herself a dresser first. And this job is a godsend. She used to waitress back in high school, and it's come back to her fast. Being on her feet all the time isn't a problem, as she's used to being on her feet in heels and moving around.

Mr. Minase, she thinks, hired her out of pity. He asked, "Why do you want to work here?" and got an answer of "Because all I have is in four suitcases and a car, and I swear to you I'll work hard." He blinked in surprise, and she ended up getting the job.

It's difficult, much more difficult than she remembered. She wants to dump hot tea into some patrons' laps, because it's not _her _fault the cook put too much spices on the food, but they act like it is and verbally abuse her. She wants to yell, "I gave you great service and you tip nothing?!" when they leave and just pay the fee for the food and drink. She wants to punch one of the other waitresses, a snotty bitch who thinks Aguni is stealing her hours.

But it's not all bad. Mr. Minase and his wife are very kind, and gave her a generous salary to start out with, probably more than she was worth at first. And there are some regulars who smile at her, ask how she's doing, tell her, "Don't look so sad! It'll work out," and tip very well. The restaurant is a microcosm of humanity, with some good, some bad, most in-between; strings of bad patrons and then one who makes her day; a day of good patrons and then she makes a mistake and is taken to task, and that's what she remembers.

Most of the staff is made up of decent people, but she keeps them at bay. Because the minute someone smiles, "Let's go have a drink," is the minute she remembers Koumokuten offering the same thing. And while a friend would make this so much easier, she's still a woman who wants to lash out when she's in pain. So most of the staff stays away from her. After witnessing her cold, "Fuck off," when a hopeful male patron asked, "When do you get off work?" they've figured out that she's a dangerous person.

But there is one who doesn't seem scared of her, and is in fact impressed by her. He's a man about her age named Otogi, and he's both funny and very intelligent. He works two other jobs and goes to night school part-time, and she has to admire that.

"Gassenka," he says now, as they wipe the tables down after closing time, "a sad frown doesn't suit your face. You should be smiling." And before she can sigh something like, "I'm too tired to smile," he continues, "If you let me take you to dinner, I promise I'll try to make you happy for a couple hours at least."

Her eyes widen ever so slightly, and she puts down the washcloth, suddenly wanting to punch him as he waits for her answer. He's a handsome man, muscular and with gleaming brown hair and sparkling blue eyes… but she no longer wants a handsome man, or any man besides one who once made a baby cry when he passed by on horseback. The one with pinpointed eyes and black hair, the one with the body that's good but the face that isn't.

"No," she tells Otogi bluntly. "I don't want to have dinner with you, you're pathetic compared to some men. Leave me alone!"

He shrugs; he half-expected this response, but it's always worth a shot. So he just replies, "All right, but I mean it about the smile. Somebody must have hurt you, huh?"

_Yes… but mostly, I hurt myself. _

She says nothing, and he says nothing else either, and when it's time to leave she walks to her car without a backwards glance. Gods… it would have been wise to say "yes" and try to forget, but damn it all, she can't have a Koumokuten substitute anymore once she's had the real thing, even if it was a mistake all along.

No. So no more studly men, no more casual lovers or attractive targets to hit on. Just Aguni, not even Fire God Aguni anymore. Nothing but the ex-stripper and her memories and hands late at night, with tears on her face because it's not the same. Nothing but a pillow held tightly because there's nothing else to hold.

Each time she sees a man with a black ponytail, her heart leaps and plummets down again. Each time she sees an older man with a younger woman it twists and breaks a little more. And each time she sees a teenaged girl wearing big hoop earrings, even, she thinks, _He had those, before this place. Out of anyone in that world, he made them look almost iconic, with the long robes and the turban and the rings on each finger._

That was then. Now he has a tie he hates, and a wedding band only. Oh, and the stud earrings, can't forget those.

She wonders if he talks to Parvati about Tenkai now, or if Parvati doesn't remember. Or Tamara, maybe. Does he suggest with a smile, "Let's put flowers in your hair, honey, just for today. You always looked so beautiful all dressed up"?

_He always looked so intimidating all dressed up. And the one time I saw him wearing sleeping clothes, when that party attacked our camp by the cliffs, I had to do a double-take to make sure that was really him, wearing white sleep pants and with his hair down. It was so incongruous to his regular frightening image, _she thinks, remembering that particular image well and dwelling on the revealed, powerful chest, the only time she ever saw it bare in Tenkai.

She sighs, parking in the farthest parking spot from her apartment door. There are closer ones open, but she's always been big on getting exercise in any way she can. In Tenkai, to show how strong she was. In Tokyo, for an escape from a home life no child deserves. When she was jogging, or doing sit-ups, or lifting weights, that blocked out all thoughts of, _My father's drinking again. When he gets drunk, bad things happen._

It impressed Koumokuten, both there and here. Once, on a stolen trip while everyone else thought he was either sick or in a different city, he joked, "You could pick me up and carry me around, huh? I like it."

She probably can, actually. Not for very far, he's a man who's also in shape, but such a role reversal made her laugh. Not that he ever tried to pick her up… not here, anyway.

There had been that time, maybe twenty-five years after she was made Fire God, when she sustained an injury on her left thigh and couldn't walk on it. She still killed her opponent, but was pretty sure that was it, she was dead if she didn't get off this battlefield. They were winning, it was actually a bit of a rout, but a warrior on the ground is vulnerable to both horses and other warriors. And just when she'd been hoping that terrified horse went the other way…

"HEY! Somebody get this lady a fucking healer! Where's the fat guy?!" Koumokuten yelled from behind her, dismounting his charger as Varuna did the same.

"He got hit by an arrow, General," Varuna replied, as Aguni grinned in relief. Safe!

"Master, I'm all right!" she quickly assured him. "It's not a mortal wound, and with medical attention I'll be fine. After all, Fire God Aguni is too powerful to be brought down my a measly desperate traitor!" she bragged gleefully, no longer worried at all.

"Yeah, well, Fire God Aguni mighta been brought down by a horse or anybody able, now that she's on the ground," Koumokuten replied flatly, but with a smirk on his lips. He knelt down next to her, and held out a hand to Varuna, ordering without even looking at him, "Strips of your cape, now. C'mon, c'mon, we don't have all day!"

Varuna sighed and obediently ripped it up, thinking to himself that he kind of hated the cape anyway. Maybe it was time to lose it for battles. Maybe he should just go with the armor, because capes got in your way. Aguni loved hers and Koumokuten loved his, but Varuna thought that, while they looked nice, they weren't as practical.

Koumokuten hastily wrapped the wound, as Aguni eyed him and thought, _Ooh, Master, you're touching my thigh! Sexy! Tonight, I'll think of this when I get myself off, and imagine you losing control and taking me right on this battlefield, while Varuna watches in jealousy. Heh, how arousing would that be, to do it on a battlefield? Two things I like, all in one!_

"Okay," Koumokuten said as he tied the makeshift bandage off, "that'll hold you until we get you to a proper healer. Now, hold still, don't squirm, and try not to laugh like a maniac all of a sudden when you see somebody getting killed, because I might drop you."

And with that, he gathered her into his arms and straightened up with a muttered, "Healthy lady, not too skinny at all."

For a moment she felt almost weightless, hefted off the ground, then he brought her closer to his chest and murmured, "We're gonna have to get you a new headdress, because if I tried this not wearing armor, those spikes would stab me in the shoulder."

"I like the headdress," she protested a bit haughtily, fighting the urge to curl into his chest and stay there forever. But this was a battlefield, and there was still danger, so she did nothing of the sort as he walked the four steps that brought him back over to his horse.

He lifted her onto the saddle, and told Varuna, "Get her back to base. On second thought, no, you stay and command, I'll take her back. This tribe's doomed anyway," he smirked, watching the destruction with a proud look on his face. "Chalk up another win for Taishakuten, and another loss for anyone dumb enough to defy him."

"It's glorious, isn't it Master Koumokuten?" Aguni grinned evilly. Violence! Yay!

"It _is _glorious," he agreed with an answering expression, grabbing the horse's reins and starting to lead him away. "That's one thing even Taishakuten has to admit: I'm good at killing things."

Aguni was aware that her master feared Taishakuten, very much so. So much, in fact, that that had been his main reason for joining the Thunder God's rebellion. Of course, ambition had played a significant part too, because who _wouldn't _want to be one of the Four Gods? Well, provided you were strong enough, because someone weak would have found themselves either executed for failure or killed by a desperate opponent.

Well, surely he would never fail! Surely he would kill anyone who opposed him, including Queen Shashi if she were to become the main power. Aguni was also aware that Koumokuten had put two and two and two together: he had a daughter, Shashi had a son, and Shashi was power-hungry. All the General of the Westland had to do was get Tamara hitched to Tenou, and if Shashi killed Taishakuten through treachery, he'd be almost home free. A quick second assassination, or perhaps a flat-out, face-to-face murder, and say hello to God-King Koumokuten!

But not right now. No, he had time to plan and wait. And right then, he also had time to tell Aguni, "Now, you take good care of that leg, okay? Do everything they tell you to do, don't try to push yourself before it's time. Understand? If you end up with a limp I'll be majorly pissed."

"If you say not to push myself, I will not push myself, my lord," she obediently agreed, as they drew nearer to the healer's tent. "I would never want to displease you!"

"I know," he grinned, glancing back to her. "You are, after all, the most loyal underling I've got."

And now she has to wonder… did he grieve her, after he destroyed Yasha and the rest? Or did he just shrug and get a new Fire God, plus a new Wind God and Water God? It could have gone either way, she thinks with a sigh.

But enough sentimental reminiscing! Now's the time to make some food, because a meal break four hours ago doesn't cut it. She's hungry, and she'll most definitely work any excess calories off, so she has no qualms about eating a second dinner.

She makes ramen with a faint sneer on her face, because she used to have fine feasts! Maybe someday, if she's lucky, she'll find a way to claw herself to a manager's position, and be able to afford eating out at fancy restaurants again. All by herself, but she won't care about the weird looks the onlookers will give her. She'll hold her head high as couples snigger behind their hands, and envision herself stabbing every single one of them to death with chopsticks, maybe through the eyes.

And then, just as she picks up the first bite of ramen, a knock comes from her door. Firm and insistent, a heavy hand that she can tell will keep pounding until she goes over and answers it.

She sighs, putting her food down, and stomps to the door. Dangerous, to answer it as a woman alone at 11:37 at night? Yes, but anyone who tries to hurt her will find themselves on the floor, with broken bones if not dead before they hit the ground. Because she remembers how to fight now, and she practiced all alone and marveled at how her muscles recalled the patterns and punches.

So no, she's not scared as she unhooks the chain and yanks the door open, snarling a furious, "What do you want?! It's…"

She blinks, her mouth hanging open, at Koumokuten standing in the hallway. He's dressed casually, all in black, small gold hoop earrings in his ears and looking soul-wearied and physically exhausted. But he smiles at her, and it's still like a dark sun breaking over the mountains.

"Aguni. Hi, Fire God."

Not the pet name of "Fire Goddess," the ancient, much-coveted title of "Fire _God._" Her eyes wide, she offers no resistance as he steps inside, closing the door gently behind him and still smiling at her. Yeah, there she is, just as gorgeous as before, even though she's wearing modest, boring clothes and looks tired.

"You know Aguni," he says quietly, fondly, "when I met you in that ruined village, I knew you were striking, but seeing you now… you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"I was terrified of you."

Her voice… did she really speak, with the world tilting awry and everything spinning apart again? She fights down tears and asks, "You remember it all, Koumokuten? You remember what you were, and what you did?"

"Oh yes," he assures her, one hand coming up to rest on her cheek. "From the beginning to the end, and damn, was it a bad end."

"What happened to you?" she asks, unable to pull away, even though that's what she _should _be doing. But surely he defeated Yasha, so did Taishakuten kill him? Torture him to death for fun? Or did a new threat arise once she was gone?

Koumokuten sighs, closing his eyes, and morosely explains, "I lost, Aguni. Yasha was stronger, and according to Zouchouten, Bishamonten ended up like me, Taishakuten lived for a hundred years afterwards, and that kid was the most evil thing to happen to the world. So in a way, you and I were in the right, but destined to lose."

She's confused, stunned, angry at all of that. But –

"But that doesn't matter anymore," he says with finality, opening his eyes and looking deep into hers. "What _does _matter is how you're here and I'm here, and –"

"You can't be here," she protests in a raspy whisper, finally mustering the resolve to step away. "Go back to your wife! I can't let you –"

"Parvati and I are getting a divorce, Aguni," he tells her, stepping forwards to follow her. "She's furious, Tamara's vowed to never speak to me again, and I made my choice, Fire God." He gives her a small but real smile and adds, "You can't stay married when you're in love with someone else."

As tears start to slip down her face, he asks her, more intense than he's ever been in any entire life, "Do you love me? Truly and beyond all hope?"

"Yes," she replies so fervently. It's not a begging plea to stay, it's just an acknowledgment of a fact of life. The sun rises, the seasons change, everyone dies, and she, Fire God Gassenka Aguni, loves Kuro Koumokuten of the Westland.

So he tells her, in the exact same matter-of-fact way, "Then I'm not leaving you ever again."

He kisses her then, and she can do nothing but surrender to it. Almost three hundred years of hero-worship, two hundred years of desire, four years of smiles and sex and one month of desperate loneliness… it's all coalesced into this. Aguni and Koumokuten, two cruel gods and two beaten-down humans, and more than anything else, a woman and a man in that most ancient of relationships.

When he pulls back, he says to her, "You're in love with me. I left my wife for you because I love you so damn much. So why should we have to leave each other now? Aguni, that would be exceedingly unfair."

"Koumokuten…" she manages, trying to say "Thank you" but it's too hard right now, too intense to say anything but his name.

"Dammit Aguni," he yells then, "I lost you twice already! And if you don't say 'yes' I'll be forced to throw you over my shoulder and – well, I'll do something very forceful! I won't just lay my heart out like this and let you set it on fire for the hell of it!"

She grins then through her tears, and reminds him, "But fire is _good_, Koumokuten! Keeps us warm. Lights our way. Makes us huddle around it to keep the terrors of the night at bay."

She gazes at him, and he gazes back at her, two hyenas having destroyed one pack and forming another. At the expense of innocent hearts? Yes. Adulterous and scandalous and undeserved? Yes indeed. Wrong? Eh, not to the Bhagavaana.

Two people, a bitch and a bastard, burning down the palace of his marriage and running off to someplace where she can stop lashing out, and he can stop searching for what he really wants. They can let the terrible and dark past rest, and while what they've done will always be there, what they _will _do is what's important now. This is a new place, with new opportunities, and though they'll never be nice people to the world… to each other they're kind, passionate, _sweet_ even, in their own ways.

She hugs him then, her face in his neck, and proclaims, "Koumokuten… yes! I'll stay with you, and I'll never leave!"

He grins too, teary-eyed and shaking, and hugs her back as he replies, "Thank you, Fire God."

.

Pressing his ear against the apartment door, Kujaku beams. Score another happy pair. He turns away and strolls outside, thinking, _Karma is a strange thing. Be a violent pair of psychos for hundreds of years and suffer for a couple decades, then suffer even more for a month… and you earn passion._

He smiles as a cat darts out in front of him, eyes glowing in the dark, and muses, _So General of the Westland, you realized something you never did in Tenkai. I don't know if things would've been different if you had, but right now, _he chuckles, _I think Zouchouten's unborn child might need a playmate._

He salutes the fourth floor window on the farthest right, where a curtain has just been drawn, and concludes, _Try not to have that one turn out spoiled._

.

.

(AN: Tempting as it was to make Parvati a terrible person so her husband could cheat on her with no regrets, I think here she _had _to be an innocent woman betrayed. After all, Koumokuten's a bad guy. Tokyo's swept away most of Tenkai's allegiances, but c'mon now, he's not nice.

And yay, Karura's having Zouchouten's baby! We'll actually see the little one, and an awake Karyoubinga, in the epilogue of this fic. We'll also see – no wait, I can't ruin it. You'll just have to wait, sorry.)


	14. Covetous

**Chapter Thirteen: Covetous**

(AN: Another brief lemon, but it's thankfully different than the rest. This is the first time I've written enemy sex – and yes, it's all consensual, c'mon now.)

.

.

(Tenkai)

Vaisravana smiles slightly at the dead man at his feet. This makes… let's see… ah, twenty-three so far today. He's certain the total will at least double, and hopefully beat yesterday's fifty-seven.

He doesn't count those killed by the catapults or archers he commands, or those killed by his horse's hooves, or those killed by the fires that smolder and flare up on this battlefield outside of Zenmi. When they breach the gates he won't count those killed by the doors falling on them, either. No, he only tallies those whose lives he ends by his own hands, be it by sword or sorcery.

It's been five weeks, and Zenmi Castle hangs on. Completely encircled, no armies left to come to its aid, and with three of its Four Gods now dead, the fortress/palace still refuses to surrender. It has its own fountains for water, but supplies must be running low, even though the god-king stockpiled them when the rebellion broke out.

Taishakuten said, "Let them starve."

Virudhaka said, "Offer them terms."

Virupaksa said, "No, offer terms only to kill them at the table."

But Vaisravana himself said, "If we offer them terms Tentei will attempt something. He will suspect our motives if we meet him, and will be prepared for treachery. But… if we let them starve, those who might surrender if not for his stubbornness die needlessly."

Virudhaka pinned him with a penetrating gaze from eyes with slitted pupils, murmuring, "Like the princess."

He simply nodded, "Yes."

Taishakuten merely shrugged and decided, "We will attempt to break the defenses, but if we don't, starvation will prompt the god-king to terms anyway. After all, his entire court will be trapped in there, and indeed, his daughter's possible death will make him a bit more amenable to surrender."

He smiled then, an expression completely without humor or pity, and went on, "If he negotiates he will die. Perhaps he will even agree to sacrifice himself for Kisshouten's sake. Jikokuten too has a daughter, and it would be such a shame if that darling child had to die needlessly," he smirked, clearly not caring in the least.

That was months ago. Now Taishakuten's most loyal general steps over his latest kill, and looks up at the huge gates. Yes, there are archers on the ramparts, but Taishakuten's forces are so vast that those killed manning the battering ram are simply replaced.

And the time is coming when it will break the gates. Jikokuten's forces are routed, the General of the Eastland himself in Zenmi and unable to get out. All three remaining Guardian Warriors have deserted him, all of them reluctantly, but still they stand aside. Lady Durga was the first, Lord Karura was the second, and Lord Ryuu was the last. She held out for a long time, but attacks on her people made her see reason. She will offer no further resistance, though all can tell she laments the breakdown of honor.

Vaisravana shrugs as he withdraws. Well, once Taishakuten is crowned, who would be stupid enough to defy him? Anyone who does will fall along with their entire tribe, Taishakuten has made that quite clear by now. It's as good as over, barring holy intervention. Vaisravana downright grins as he returns to the tents, because if the Bhagavaana haven't intervened by now, they never will.

The rebel encampment is sprawling, swollen with men and women whose tribal leaders acquiesced to Taishakuten and heeded his demand to throw their troops into the fight. Not to mention servants, and hostlers, and cooks, and of course… camp followers, lots of those. He sneers as one bows and backs away from him, her eyes wide. Such pathetic little sluts, spreading their legs for the conquering horde. He finds it amusing that many of them hate Taishakuten's army, but service it anyway.

He pulls the main tent flap open and stops short, blinking in surprise. And speaking of whores…

Shashi of the Ashura tribe looks up, surprised, her rounded belly flush against the table she was reading a map on, and greets, "Oh. Vaisravana."

"Shashi. Hello," he nods, studying her and wondering why this woman doesn't just stay in Taishakuten's bed where she belongs. She has no martial prowess, so he finds her fairly useless.

Not completely useless, though. Her treachery has ensured that Lord Ashura fell to Taishakuten, that his people were completely and totally wiped out, or will be soon enough. In payment she will be crowned queen alongside Taishakuten, which the redhead thinks really shouldn't be handed to her on a silver platter. It's not like she drew up the plans for the battle with the Ashuras, right?

Actually, now that he comes to think about it, she made significant contributions in the war room. But still, she's never been on a battlefield, so her knowledge is purely academic.

"What are you reading?" he asks her sharply, nodding at the map. "Taishakuten doesn't appreciate his materials being fooled with. I would advise you to put that back exactly as you found it, Shashi. He may be your lover, but above all he's the head of this rebellion."

She laughs, a musical, tinkling laugh, much different than the predatory, gloating laugh she often emits all alone. She taps the map and titters, "Oh silly Vaisravana, I know that. Which is why I _will _put it back, once I'm through with it. I mean it no harm, and he doesn't even _need _this one right now. This one is of the Eastland, and I was merely studying it to see if I can reconstruct the campaign there. Out of boredom, pure and simple."

He doesn't believe her. He's never trusted her, ever. Since the first time he encountered her heading to Taishakuten's tent, he's thought that she's in it only for herself.

"Well. Just as long as you don't fiddle with something he actually needs. This war by all means should be won in mere days, but you never know. Someone could betray him," he murmurs in a warning tone, pinning her with a suspicious gaze. "But I, of course, will use my dying breath to prevent that. _I _am Taishakuten's second-in-command, after all."

"I always wondered why you did it," she murmurs back, her eyes betraying nothing. "You were Lord Ashura's friend, Tentei's friend, famous for your loyalty. And yet you threw your lot in with Taishakuten?"

"Taishakuten is very charismatic," Vaisravana says breezily, betraying nothing either. "He made me an offer I couldn't refuse."

That's all he says before he turns and leaves, going down to the closest cook's tent. As he eats, ravenous and knowing that this might be his last meal, he reflects on what Shashi said. It's all true, but his statement was true as well. His side of the bargain is to serve Taishakuten loyally, lay down his life for him if needed, and root out dissent once the Thunder God is emperor. Vaisravana is a very dangerous man, and he is the best one for this job. Taishakuten will profit greatly from it.

And _he_… he gets _Kisshouten_. He is convinced that she never would have married the Snow God of the Northland, but once he is Bishamonten, he can have whatever he wants. And given the choice between every other person in the world, all the treasure and all the glory, or the princess, there would be no hesitation. He fell for her the moment he saw her, as a twelve-year-old boy in human years. How beautiful she is, how sweet and kind, and how alluring, with curves any woman would be proud of.

His lustful greed for her drives him on, spurs him to battle, keeps him up at night and occupies all his thoughts. More than one whore has played Kisshouten, and he feels that he should get his fill of such actions before he marries her. She may never come to him willingly and he's not about to rape her, but there's that tiny chance that she will realize, through his actions, that he loves her. Not soon, but someday, surely someday, she _has _to!

His thoughts are shattered by a hubbub outside, sounded trumpets and people crying triumphantly. He sets his half-eaten food down and strides out, grabbing a passing man and demanding, "What's happened?"

"We're about to breach the gates, my lord," the man grins with much excited anticipation. "You'd better hurry, General Taishakuten will want you at the forefront."

Vaisravana gives him no answer, just breaks into a jog. Soon he's at his horse, and he leaps onto its back, spurring it to a gallop towards the gates with his heart in his throat. This is it, the most important day of his life, and it's absolutely imperative that he be the one to reach Kisshouten first. He must protect her! If he finds that she's been raped or hurt in any way, he will destroy the ones who did it, but slowly, agonizingly slowly, until they beg for death but he won't give it to them for a long time.

Soon he is next to his closest allies, all three of them on horses and splashed with blood. But they are also all eager for this, relatively unfatigued though they've been fighting all morning. All hold their weapons and look forwards to this breach, because once they're in, the hardest part is over.

"Conquerors," Virupaksa grins, his pinpointed eyes gleaming at the prospect of entering the palace after so long. "Watch out Tentei, here come three of the new Four Gods and the next god-king."

"If we survive," Virudhaka cautions, but his grin is wolfish. He, like the other two, thrives on battle.

Just then Taishakuten appears, splashed with blood as well but looking nearly manic. He's so close! The gate needs but a few more blows from the battering ram, and then the end has begun. He nods to his minions, raises his sword, points it towards the gates, and bellows, "CHARGE!"

They do charge, and that valiant gate goes down to a roar of triumph from the rebels, and a roar of despair from the palace defenders. They know what this means, because while there are fortifications inside the halls, they are nothing compared to the front gates of Zenmi. Today this war is over, today a new age has begun, and barring the miracle of Taishakuten being killed, the Thunder God's rule will begin soon. Tentei is as good as dead now, nothing can save him from his fate.

But Vaisravana spares no thought for Tentei, the king he swore loyalty to on bended knee. No… only the princess, only his prize, concerns him now. He considers which way to go, at a crossroads in the halls a mere hour after entering the palace. Well, which room would be best to barricade oneself in? Hm, her bedroom? No, it has windows, which would invite attacks from the air. So perhaps… perhaps Tentei's study.

And yes, the study is surrounded by guards and with the doors locked, no doubt fortified by furniture. These are Tentei's personal guards, Vaisravana realizes with a frown; the god-king dismissed them from defending him and ordered them to fight to the death to defend his daughter. Despite the awful way he treated his sister and their poor son, he is still a far better person than Taishakuten, as he loves Kisshouten more than anyone else in his life. Even now, as Taishakuten draws closer, he frets over her safety and prays that she will be all right.

The guards catch sight of Vaisravana, yelling that he's here and rushing forwards to kill him. But for all their skill and numbers they are no match for him. His sword, the energy beam of his pure will, slices through the first wave and sends a magical blow through the rest. Yes, yes! He's fighting better than he's _ever _fought before, because he's so close to his goal. Impatient with these fools, he wastes no time showing off fancy swordsmanship, he just hacks and slashes with single-minded determination.

Fourteen dead. Seventeen dead. Twenty-two dead. Twenty-three dead. Twenty-five dead, and the last one dead now, as well. He wastes no time on gloating either, just gathers an energy ball in his hands, his heart racing and his mind consumed with impatience. He must have Kisshouten! He hurls the magical attack at the doors and they burst apart in flame, to hysterical screams in many women's voices.

Handmaidens, hmph. There's no need to kill them, he decides as he steps through the burning wreckage of the doors. They're huddled together on the far side of the room, and as he strides forwards they scream some more and cower back, some of them babbling pleas not to hurt them and to leave Princess Kisshouten alone! He says nothing, he doesn't care about them, just tosses them aside to reveal the princess, pressed back against a wall and staring at him with horror, fear, and disbelief.

And he smiles at her, triumphant at last, and says, "Hello, my Kisshouten."

.

(Three hundred years later)

The night is cold. The wind whispering through the arches of Zenmi makes Bishamonten pull his cape around him, frowning out at the starry sky revealed by the windows.

Things are moving, far from the palace. Four of the Six Stars have gathered, one is dead… or so he thinks. Lady Karura's expertly-faked suicide, and her commander Zouchouten's flawless "Why of course she's gone" act, have fooled Bishamonten at least. Yet he is aware that something is wrong. Taishakuten peers shrewdly at his General of the Southland, saying nothing, but Bishamonten has spent three centuries at his side and he can tell the god-king is thinking…

What? He never tells anyone his thoughts. Not his right-hand man, not his secret Jikokuten, not his son or his wife.

The General of the Northland smirks at that last one. Only a fool would trust Shashi. She's a serpent in the grass, bejeweled for camouflage because most people wouldn't think a vain mother with those elaborate costumes could be a real danger. Those people would be so wrong it's laughable. That woman… she's plotting something.

But back to Taishakuten and Zouchouten. The head of the Four Gods then entertains the thought that _Zouchouten _could be one of the rebels foretold. Here he is incorrect, but on the right trail to Zouchouten's eventual defiance. The former Virudhaka is not one of the Six Stars, but he hides Karura's continued existence from his masters. And since Kendappa has said nothing either, Bishamonten is blissfully unaware of the Sky Queen's vendetta. No, he believes her dead, her body destroyed from her leap from such a height, and he's pleased about that.

As for Zouchouten, he decides, his spies will find out whether his comrade should die or not. He stands at the window for a further half-hour, pondering and plotting… holding up his side of the bargain with Taishakuten.

He feels that the god-king has the better end of it, since he gained a loyal henchman, a strong enforcer, a sounding board, and co-holder of many secrets. And Bishamonten has, regrettably, the worse end of their deal. Kisshouten despises him, barely speaks to him, lives in a separate castle and leaves when she sees him coming. At first he thought she would thaw, but he's been proven very much wrong.

Still, he has her. Isn't that what he wanted? Didn't Taishakuten predict this, didn't Bishamonten glibly say it would be enough to have her at his side? She's _his_, forever, until death do them part.

Except… his love for her has only grown, and her hatred of him has grown with it. If he tried to lie with her she would attack him, accept her punishment of death handed down from Taishakuten with a smile. And such hate wounds him deeply. Hasn't he given her only gentleness, soft words, a wedding night and life free from her marital duties? Hasn't he protected her? She's only alive thanks to his intervention, why can't she see that?

But it would take a miracle to make her love him, he thinks rather hopelessly. And such a thing is not –

Sudden movement down the hall makes him turn, startled. A figure clad in a white nightgown with long dark hair comes towards him with no fear, barefoot and with earrings in even for bed. But not Kisshouten, never Kisshouten… Shashi.

"Couldn't sleep?" she smiles, sweetly and looking ironically like an innocent maiden out for a moonlit stroll. "It's almost midnight, you know."

They stare at each other, and she wonders what reverie she's disturbed. He looks annoyed yet sad, the silver light casting deep shadows over his face. Interesting, to see Bishamonten brood, the man who smirked so nastily as Taishakuten fed Karyoubinga's body to his saramahs, and who whistled a happy tune as the Yasha tribe died, which she heard all about.

"What are you doing here?" he suddenly snaps, pushing his cape aside. "What do you want?"

She frowns as well and snaps back, "I don't want anything from you. I was simply walking to tire myself out. Please remember that you don't own this corridor, Bishamonten."

"Neither do you," he haughtily reminds her. "Everything here belongs to Taishakuten: castle, corridor, me, _you_. You really _must _stop acting as if you rule Tenkai, Shashi."

Well! What a prick, obviously defensive. Something has upset him, whatever he was thinking of, and so he takes his anger out on her. Hmph, he wouldn't be nearly so cocky if he knew of her plans for him: killed through treachery, hopefully very painfully. In fact, _inevitably _very painfully, she decides, because he's so rude to her. Not to that potty-mouthed Koumokuten's extent, but still.

Her impressive chest heaves, the smooth exposed skin darkening in a flush from her anger. His eyes are drawn to it, with that inability to notice anything else that a frustrated male has. It's involuntary, but it's real.

She notes his gaze, all of a sudden frustrated herself. After Tenou's birth Taishakuten never touched her again, almost as if she'd served her purpose, and he had no more reason to do something he'd never liked anyway. And there has been no one else, for three centuries. A creature of naturally strong sexual appetite, she's been unable to find a handsome courtier because he would _know, _and her plans are too important to endanger.

So she does not bring an arm up to cover herself, despite the fact that this is Taishakuten's dog, Taishakuten's sycophant who she will have to kill anyway. That makes it almost easier, really, because it would mean absolutely nothing, and when he's dead who'd even know? And once he's had her, he's going to stupidly think he can control her, and that adds an extra layer of protection.

Logic, had it been in operation by this point, might have cautioned that the god-king will find out. It might have pointed out that Bishamonten might take her and betray her, even kill her himself. It might have protested that she doesn't need a man to make herself feel good. But need and desire have shut logic into a closet, locked it up and barred the door.

Self-preservation is still free though, and it whispers, _If he initiates it, that gives us the advantage. Let him make the first move._

So she simply looks at him with half-lidded eyes as he stares at her chest, frowning as she smiles slightly. And suddenly his eyes meet hers, angrily and almost appalled. He was staring at _Shashi's _breasts! Not his wife's, _Taishakuten's _wife's, and that right there would probably be seen as treason by the god-king.

"Don't tempt me," he hisses angrily, taking a step back, but she just titters.

"Who said I was tempting you? That wasn't my intention. I think your response makes it clear that _you're _the one considering adultery," she smiles pleasantly, fighting the urge to guffaw aloud in triumph.

"No I'm not!" he protests in frantic fear, even as part of his mind whispers, _Ooh, __adultery__. Taboo and thrilling, adultery. It's not like my marriage involves sex anyway._

"Oh, you're not? Really," is her smug, knowing response, and he stupidly does not turn and run, thus removing himself from temptation.

She is the second-most beautiful being he's ever seen, the first of course being Kisshouten. Her clear brown eyes, her long chocolate hair, her perfect brows and well-formed crimson lips… yes, she's stunning. But her pulchritude is balanced by her turpitude. She is a traitor responsible for the deaths of thousands, a woman who tried to murder her own child, and a power-lusting slut, wanton in comparison to Kisshouten with her cleavage-bearing dresses and slinky skirts.

So really, it's not as though he'll be corrupting anything. He can justify this by saying it's all her fault, that no man could resist this siren, plus he's surely more than a match for anything she might try to pull. And damn it all, it's been so long. So he moves fast, grabbing her and forcing their mouths together, an action to proclaim, "I dominate you, not the other way around."

Triumph floods her soul, as she hungrily kisses back. Yes, yes, another man under her spell! So easy, all of them. Lord Ashura, Taishakuten, and now Bishamonten… fools, fools, fools! None of them realized her intent, she is convinced of this. But ah, all of them gave or will give her what she wanted, pleasure and power. Perhaps, if she plays her cards right, Bishamonten might not have to die at all if she enslaves him with her body. Poor sex-starved Bishamonten, she's well aware that he does not sleep with Kisshouten.

He pulls away, his mouth still open, then starts to push her back, to get her supine on the floor for him. But no, that won't do! Anyone could walk by and see, and besides, Shashi rates more than a floor, yes? She is convinced that she rates only the finest surroundings for sex, when really, she could be taken in the mud and enjoy herself.

"I'm the queen," she tells him flatly, even as one hand tangles in his hair. "You can't just take me on a floor like a common courtesan."

"Then it's back to your bedchamber we go, it's closer than mine," he tells her, his voice rough with passion. "Come along, then."

Her bedchamber is so close, there's little time for him to reflect on what they're doing. He walks quickly and so does she, in front of him actually, and he watches the sway of her hips and buttocks with impatience. But soon they're at the tall double doors, and she pushes them open with a gratingly sweet, "Come along, then," echoing his own order.

It's a fine bedchamber, site of many a scheme and many an evil monologue. It's nicer than his, since she is after all a royal, but his is certainly extravagant as well. She leads him past the receiving room and to the bed, a round, spacious, silk-sheeted affair, hung with sheer curtains and simply screaming, "Bed of an arrogant queen!" The portrait of herself on the wall, in addition to all the full-length mirrors, do nothing to dispel that impression. But ah well, this just means he can see her from multiple angles, and he certainly likes looking at himself too.

She wraps his arms around his neck, and murmurs against his lips, "How long has it been since you've been in a woman's bedroom?"

"That's none of your business," he snaps, but cuts off any reply with another kiss.

He's made the decision to do this and so he will, no more second-guessing himself. It would have been wiser, and soon he'll regret what he did, but for now he shoves all thoughts of condemnation or leaving to the back of his mind.

And it's good, to feel a woman against him again, to smell sweet skin and taste a skilled mouth. And for her it's equally good, to fell a hard chest pressed against her breasts, to know he's getting aroused all thanks to her, to feel strong, capable hands caressing her. At first they just caress her head and neck, but soon they move down to feel her breasts, to span her waist, to press her hips closer to him. Unfortunately she can't feel his arousal due to that plate of armor that covers his groin, but soon she'll feel it, oh yes she will.

"I always thought – you were sexy," she pants against his mouth, and she's telling the truth. He always thought she was sexy too, but he doesn't say it, because her blatant sexiness is less to him than Kisshouten's elegant, completely clothed sexiness, the type modest clothes can't hide.

And speaking of clothes…

She's having a little trouble figuring out what to take off first, since his outfit is so elaborate: armor over cloth with more cloth over the armor, with jewelry over that. So he helps her by unfastening the chains that link his pectoral crests to the mandala at his waist, and lets the whole contraption drop to the floor. It's been handled roughly before, something like this isn't going to hurt it.

Then the cloth wrapped around his torso comes off, and now for the first thing anybody notices about his outfit: those massive, overkill shoulderguards. These he has to help her take off as well, because they're quite heavy. But after that his disrobing proceeds quickly, until all he's wearing is his hair jewelry and loincloth, and all she's wearing is… absolutely nothing, since she sleeps with no underwear on.

She eagerly takes off the jeweled comb he wears in his hair, letting long red strands tumble down, even longer than she'd thought. His hair is almost down to his lower back when it's not twisted up, and it makes for a toothsome picture, in her mind. Certainly a more uninhibited picture, since that bun seems to proclaim, "I am an elegant, classy ice king! No one may touch me!" To her, at least.

"You have pretty hair," she murmurs appreciatively, running a long lock through her fingers as her other hand presses him back against the bed. "I think you should wear it loose more often."

"No. But thank you. And yours is nice too," he compliments because it's polite to do so, and because it really is pretty: down past her knees, woven with gold beads and drops on the ends, so dark brown it's almost black, and of course, very very silky.

"This has to go," she grins, tugging at the loincloth that hides his straining sex. She gets it off quickly, and ooh! Yay, he's even bigger than she expected, good.

He's happy to let her touch it, as he is happy in turn to pay oral attention to her breasts. They are sensitive, and she makes pleasured, excited little noises, arching into his mouth and holding his head close with a long-nailed hand. She suddenly realizes that she could kill him, now, just slash at his jugular and that would be it – but of course he might kill her too as he dies, and she won't be getting off that way. No, she'll murder him later if she needs to, but for now he is most useful indeed.

Soon she's ready to mount him, but he grabs her and rolls, making her shriek in surprise as their positions are reversed. Whoa, okay, you always have to remember how fast warriors are, she thinks as she stares up at him, a little afraid that he means to strangle her or something.

"I will take you, not the other way around," he tells her firmly, pressing her down perhaps a little too hard, but she doesn't mind so very much. Sex is sex, after all, and as long as she gets off she'll be happy.

"All right then, Bishamonten," she says sweetly as she spreads her legs. "Go right ahead."

And so he takes her, a substitute for Kisshouten. And so she receives him, a better way to achieve orgasm than her own hands. If it means anything, it means a cautious truce at the bargaining table of this bed, one both will cast aside when the time is right, should it ever come. They use each other, and they both know it, but neither can really bring themselves to care as it happens.

And once it ends, she is not surprised at all that he merely catches his breath, then gets up without a word. No whispered thanks, no caress of her hair, no roll to the side and post-coital embrace, just a frown and the thought, _That was a mistake._

As he dresses silently she watches him, equally silent, languid on the extravagant bed as a cool breeze comes in from the window and moves the perfumed air, heavy with the scent of sex as well. Yes, run away Bishamonten, pretend it didn't happen but it did, oh how it did, she thinks with a slight smile. It was good, better than Taishakuten actually, as Taishakuten was all about his own enjoyment. His right-hand man was concerned with his own enjoyment too, but he spared a thought for his partner, something she was very pleased by (in both senses of the word).

Finally, with his last sash tied and his hair put back up, he turns to her and cautions, "Don't think this gives you a hold on me. If Taishakuten asks me I'll tell him what happened, I won't lie."

She shakes her head and responds, "I don't think that, I'm not stupid. But you have no hold on me either. This was simply a much-needed release of sexual tension for both of us."

He nods and says firmly, "You know this can never, ever happen again."

She nods as well, thinks, and then replies, "Stay. Until dawn, stay." She looks him in the eye and asks, "Who else will touch you tonight?"

He sighs and admits to himself, _No one. Absolutely no one. _

So he unties the sashes, takes the armor off, slips the boots off, lets his hair down, climbs back into bed with her, and touches her again. And once more, so great is the stamina and fast recovery time of a god. This won't wear him out, three couplings one after another, and if this is what it takes to sate his desire for Kisshouten, then so be it. Shashi knows what she's doing, and he wonders how many men she's actually been with, because surely it can't have been only her two husbands.

She stares into his eyes, below hers this time, wide open even as passion runs away with them both. They are beautiful eyes, matching the rest of him. But she's no stranger to beautiful men; Taishakuten's face would be like a woman's if his eyes weren't so stony. Ah, but Bishamonten's eyes are much more expressive, and right now they're saying, "Take it. Please me. I don't care if it's wrong for us to do this."

And it is wrong. Dangerous too, a damning act on multiple levels.

_But who can blame me? _she thinks as she pistons up and down. _Taishakuten feels nothing for me. As queen I have no chance to carry on with a secret lover, they all watch me. __He__ watches me. And who can blame __him__? His wife despises him, and no one could blame her either. _

As he comes, Bishamonten calls out Kisshouten's name. Shashi says nothing but a wordless scream.

.

(One week later)

The child is coming for Shashi.

She can feel it, she _knows _it, with unbreakable certainty. She does not know he is the one that will rend everything in two, the thing worse than a demon that will turn the world into a hellhole of blood and flame, and burn everything until he is the only one left if he isn't stopped. She just knows that he's coming for her, unrelenting and merciless. And Tenou doesn't even have his sword! What kind of warrior is he?!

So she ran, a panicked flight that actually took her awayfrom the only ones who could hope to protect her, though admittedly not for very long. And she belatedly realizes this now, it enters her head that the Four Gods and Taishakuten alone could shield her. And when the chips are down, she knows that she meant nothing to her husband. But the Four Gods, surely! Surely they could save her, if she calls for them.

But Zouchouten will not come, he dislikes her anyway. Not to mention his _darling _little Sky Queen will attack Taishakuten, and he'll either be forced to kill her or watch her be killed. And Jikokuten will not come, she is a soulless automaton to her god-king, who will destroy even the one she loves for him. And she too dislikes Shashi, it's plain to see. Of course Koumokuten is dead, felled by Lord Yasha and no doubt rotting on some battlefield somewhere. He wouldn't have helped her anyway.

But… Bishamonten, out of all of them, might come to Shashi's aid. It's a slim chance, one she knows is very unlikely, with his master Taishakuten under attack and Yasha no doubt coming for _him_. But panic seizes on this slim chance and clings to it, babbling that maybe, _maybe _he will come if called, protect her from that _abomination _she never wanted in the first place.

_Yes, he will kill it! He will crush that child like I failed to do three hundred years ago! And I'll thank him, _Shashi thinks frantically, trapped and hunted down. _I'll give him whatever he wants. I'll… I'll let him __do__ anything he wants, anything! Anything, if he kills it._

Subconscious thought processes, completely unnoticed, start to work on this problem. If Taishakuten falls, she wins. If she wins, maybe Bishamonten becomes her consort?

But even in a blind panic, she is no fool. Why would he live if Taishakuten dies? Yasha or Karura would have to go through him to get to the god-king, and neither would merely wound or even cripple. And he would never choose her over Kisshouten, it's laughable. Even though Kisshouten would never love him, even if Shashi _did _pledge to be his private whore locked in his chambers and never allowed out, he would pick his wife.

Those same thought processes can't comprehend that. What is this foolishness "love," that a being would cling to another who would rather see him dead?

She doesn't know, because she's never had the slightest taste of it, nor wanted it in the least. Lord Ashura? A stepping stone to power, who gave her the lifespan of a god and was betrayed when a better opportunity came along. Taishakuten? The final step, one she hates and would as soon destroy as look at.

Has it all been for naught? So many lies, so many little maneuverings, three seductions of men she felt nothing for… for this? To die by her own child's hand? With that _bastard _Taishakuten uncaring, sending no guards to protect his wife, the woman who was the reason the Ashuras fell?

It wasn't supposed to be like this! She was supposed to be the dowager empress, secure in her position of Tenou's mother. An empress who killed her husband, set her son on the throne but was the _real _power. They would all kneel at her feet, gods and humans, Guardian Warriors, Five Gods of the four lands, the very Four Gods! It's been all she's ever wanted, ever since she looked up at a handsome deity on a horse as a child of seven, a human born to a beautiful whore of a mother. A twin whose sister was the child of another man, who might have been anyone, really.

That day, Shashi realized something: it wasn't _fair. _They swanned about on high, the lowest of them more powerful than the greatest, strongest human. Lifespans of thousands of years, the power to call down fire and touch wind, wrap it into a rope and lash out with it. The power to gather lightning and direct it at a demon ten times bigger, and destroy it.

So she looked up at the man she would one day marry, Lord Ashura, and she made a decision then. She would _become _a god, but why stop there? Why settle for mere godhood if one could be the gods' _ruler?_

At that moment, a hunger for power, destructive and intoxicating, was born. It carried her though the training to be an Ashura priestess, through the selection process, through the ceremony that turned her divine. And it fed on itself, seducing Lord Ashura with no love whatsoever. It cast about for the next level, and it fixed on Taishakuten, Thunder God and imperial commander.

He was handsome, but that didn't make a difference. He could have been an old, deformed monstrosity of a man and she would have borne his child, because how else could she climb up? Lord Ashura married her for an heir, and she never was a warrior. Blood never frightened her, and she is capable of murder many times over, but the chaos of battle and the sorcery of a gods' war is beyond her skill. Shashi's greatest weapons are her beauty, her body, and her brain, and like so many beautiful women before, she took the "sleep my way to the top" route to power.

She zeroed in on Taishakuten, with a predator's instinct. He was planning something, she could tell. How? There was something in his eyes, something in the way he bowed to Tentei, the way he casually courted powerful warriors. So she went to him, a married woman, and found him alone. He wasn't surprised, and he made no pretenses of love or even desire.

"Shashi… Lord Ashura's wife," he murmured, standing up from his desk. He studied her, a single eyebrow lifted, and continued, "Power-hungry little whore. What makes you think you're so special?"

She just smiled at him, making no pretenses either, and told him, "The fact that I know Lord Ashura's weaknesses, Thunder God. I know his defenses, his people's weak points, his little idiosyncrasies. You'll need help, if you plan to be god-king."

Taishakuten smiled as well, slow and lazy, and asked, "And you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart, hmm? You think I'm your one true love?"

She shook her head, and barely refrained from snorting in dismissal as she answered, "No. I have a deal for you: promise to make me queen, and I'll give you all that information. You have no wife, and surely you'll have no problem killing my husband."

"Lord Ashura," Taishakuten whispered with an unusual light in his eyes, one she could never figure out. "They say he is practically undefeatable, and they also say I might match him… but you may be useful. All right, Shashi," he murmured, trailing a long-nailed hand over her face, "we have an accord."

It never occurred to her that he would have married her anyway, to guard the seal she wore. She never knew Lord Ashura was the instigator of the rebellion that would destroy him through his own choice, just to give his heir the chance to live. She never knew of both her men's night together, while everyone else went about their lives unaware of the prophecy. No… she just made doubly sure to conceive Taishakuten's child.

And damn it all, there were _two! _Lord Ashura's and Taishakuten's, in a twist of irony fit for a court epic. The sight of the squalling Ashura made her blood run cold, because Taishakuten would never allow it. So she took the pointy-eared baby with her into the forest, and then…

And then there was nothing, no memory of it. She remembers raising the knife high, and the next thing she knew she was back at Zenmi, waking up in her extravagant bed with Tenou crying for milk. It was terrifying then, and it's even more terrifying now. What happened? She convinced herself she'd killed Ashura, and fatigue and the shock of giving birth had simply made her forget it. Clearly, she failed, she knew that when Taishakuten announced the existence of the Six Stars. But how had Ashura –?

And then… she feels it, her unwanted son getting closer, much closer. She screams and collapses, and clutches at Tenou's robes, but it does no good.

Because Ashura finds her in the end.

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(AN: Dark, ain't it? And I still maintain that CLAMP left a giant, gaping plot hole concerning how Ashura survived and got that giant tree to grow around him. If it was Evil Ashura, why didn't he kill Shashi then and there? Methinks the creators had an idea in the beginning that ended up not jibing with the angst-fest that is Volumes Nine and Ten, so they tossed it without a backup plan. It was a pretty glaring omission, and quite shoddy and unprofessional.

To explain the monikers of Vaisravana, Virudhaka, and Virupaksa… Bishamonten, Zouchouten, and Koumokuten, respectively. Those are the Indian names for those deities and I use them as pre-revolution names, as tribal leaders and Four Gods have theirs changed when they assume such positions.

Oh, and an explanation for Lady Durga. CLAMP loudly proclaims in Volume Six that the Yasha only became Guardian Warriors under Taishakuten [which contradicts what came before, but whatever], so Lady Durga – a Hindu warrior goddess whose name means "invincible" – is the prior Guardian Warrior of the Northland in this fic. I assume she pissed Taishie off and he wiped her tribe out in revenge, just like he always does.)


	15. Rorschach

**Chapter Fourteen: Rorschach**

(AN: And now we get a brief dream-lime, a short solo-male lime, and an actual sex lemon as well. If you'd rather not see them, the version of this chapter on deviantART will be T-rated and posted hopefully within the week.)

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(Nakano-ku, Tokyo, in mid-January 2014)

Kougou Shashi has a together life. She's a high-ranking realtor, she has a nice house, she has a fairly large amount of money saved up, and she looks merely thirty even though she's forty-one. She's fashionable, she's gorgeous, she's respected, and she's envied. She is proud of all this, and she has reason to be. Because all she has, she built herself, twice. Once she built and thought she would only go up, but then it all came crashing down one day.

Yes, back in Katsuhika-ku, twenty-one years ago… she never dreamed, then, that her life would change so fundamentally, in less than an hour.

It all goes back to Taishakuten – Inazuma Taishakuten, sexy and powerful banker. They met when she was invited to a big, fancy party, because she'd helped a millionaire's daughter find the perfect house. They hit it off, both being people with high opinions of themselves, and began dating soon after. And then they fell in love, and got married. The marriage was a bit hasty, because Shashi had gotten pregnant.

She was quite happy about it, innocently pleased that she was having _his _baby, nobody else's. She viewed this as a declaration of their love and commitment, and even Taishakuten, not known for his fondness for children, was excited for the little one. Up until Month Seven things went great, and then he left on the business trip that changed three lives, irreversibly.

He came home a new man, and wasted no time on beating around the bush. He kissed her hello, perfunctory and brusque, and she barely had time to wonder what was wrong before he told her, "Shashi, I have things I need to tell you, very important things. Let's go into the living room."

She did, all sorts of terrible scenarios whirling through her head, but not the correct one. Had he been threatened by criminals, and they were demanding money and were watching the house? Had his business venture gone terribly awry, and they were going to lose all their money and their lavish lifestyle? Had an old girlfriend suddenly resurfaced with an illegitimate child? Had his parents disowned him? Had he suddenly decided that they were moving out to Okinawa?

She sat down on the couch, fully expecting him to sit down next to her, but he remained standing, looking solemn and very faintly annoyed. She reached a hand out but he didn't take it, just looked at it like he would look at a stranger holding a hand out to him, and she stood back up as she pleaded, "Taishakuten, what's going on?"

And so he got right to the point, with a matter-of-fact, "Shashi, I'm leaving you."

She gasped for breath, sitting back down with a thud, one of her hands going automatically to her belly as if to protect the baby from his father's cruelty. HOW?! How could he do this to her – to _them,_ to his wife and his unborn child, the woman he'd wooed so winningly and the son he'd been excited about, or so she'd thought.

"Taishakuten, no, you… you can't!" she pleaded frantically, everything falling apart in a matter of seconds.

He just looked at her with those granite golden eyes, and smoothly replied, "Yes I can, and I am. My lawyer is annulling this marriage as we speak, and –"

"You can't _do _that!" she screamed hysterically, furious and with tears in her eyes. "You can't annul it unless I give you my consent, and I _won't!_" she vowed, clenching shaking fists and wanting to throw something hard at him.

"You will," he disagreed in a bored tone. "I know you will. If you don't we're estranged for life anyway, because I'm leaving Tokyo. I'm going west, to Europe even if I have to, and I'll refuse to take your calls because I'll be far too busy trying to locate my objective."

She couldn't speak for a moment, her perfect life crashing apart onto her head. An hour ago everything was wonderful: a dashing husband and a much-wanted child on the way, a mansion and a job waiting for her when she came off maternity leave. They'd been so well-matched, a pair of beautiful people wanting to climb this social ladder, and he had never given her the slightest indication that he was unhappy with their marriage. He'd sent her roses just yesterday!

"Why are you doing this?" she finally managed, crying as he stood aloof. "I thought you loved me!"

"I am doing this," he informed her, "because there is someone else I love much more than you, someone I lost a long time ago and suddenly found again."

She shook her head hard, over and over, and protested, "But we're _married! _Old girlfriends shouldn't… sh-shouldn't destroy…"

"He's not an old girlfriend," Taishakuten flatly corrected, stopping her short in shock. "You wouldn't understand, you're not like I am. But Ashura-ou is here, I saw him in the airport. He was on his phone, and I heard him say, 'I've never been that far west before,' before he was lost to me, going the other way on the escalator. I tried to chase him down, but he'd vanished. Well Shashi, like I said you wouldn't understand, but I realized a lot of things about myself, him, and you when his eyes met mine by pure accident."

Now she _did _throw something at him, a vase with violets, furious that he was not only interested in men, but leaving her for someone who hadn't even had a conversation with him when they'd met again! How did Taishakuten know this Ashura-ou (what an ugly name, she hated it already) even wanted to see him again?! Maybe he'd been glad to escape Taishakuten, maybe he was married with six children and a loving wife, maybe he had AIDS and would infect Taishakuten if they ever slept together!

"You _FUCKER!_" she screamed at the top of her lungs, as her husband caught the vase midair. "You cheating, terrible, heartless bastard, how _dare _you leave your pregnant wife?! And for a _man!_ I hope you both get HIV and _die!_" she sobbed, grabbing a framed photo to throw at him too.

He caught that one as well and winged it right back at her, connecting with her jaw and engendering a shriek of surprised pain, and a fall back onto the couch. She stared up at him, suddenly more frightened than she'd ever been in her life, as he growled, "Stop throwing things like a child, or you'll be sorry. It's happening, Shashi, it's best if you just accept what you can't change."

She stayed silent, and he turned away without a word, off to pack his suitcases. Then, before he reached the stairs, he turned back and told her, "And this house does not belong to you anymore. You will stay with your parents, tonight and all other nights."

She had no choice, for all she wanted to kill him and raged against the unfairness of it all, to other people. He'd scared her more than anything before, and she feared for her safety if she angered him, which was a terrible position to be in. Soon her love for him had turned to virulent hate, and she began to seriously consider having a late-term abortion. But that carried risks, and her parents were so against it, insisting that she just give the baby up for adoption if she didn't want him. And a tiny, latent part of her didn't want to get rid of him at all.

So she made the decision to carry the baby to term, and give him up, never have anything to do with him again. She didn't name him, she didn't even hold him, she barely looked at him when he was born. She threw herself into rebuilding her life, starting out with an apartment so different than Taishakuten's mansion, and for twelve years she had no regrets about her child.

But then, as her life settled down, as she had what she needed and usually what she wanted, as friends watched their children grow… she began to have the thought that maybe she made the wrong decision, at least about cutting her child out of her life. Giving him up was probably the right path to take, because she resented him as Taishakuten's, and that wouldn't have been fair to the poor kid. But she began to miss him, wonder how he was doing, and sometimes play the "Is that my son?" game whenever she saw a boy of the correct age with red hair.

Oh well. He's probably happy with his adoptive parents, and doesn't need her at all, she sighs as she drives to a house she'll be showing.

It's a nice house, a mansion actually, and it's technically someone else's commission, but he's laid up in the hospital from a car crash and Shashi's taking over the case. She'll meet Mr. Kuro Koumokuten and Ms. Gassenka Aguni for the first time today. And boy, will it set things in motion she never would have dreamed of, either here in Tokyo or back in Tenkai, of which she hasn't the faintest inkling so far. Koumokuten and Aguni will blow that apart, and soon she'll be thinking she's crazy.

But for now, she just pulls up in front of the house, seeing a sleek black car already there with two people hanging around it. She parks, turns her own car off, and gets out to greet them with a pleasant, "You must be Mr. Kuro and Ms. Gassenka! I'm Ms. Kougou, so good to meet you."

The couple blinks at her, completely and totally stunned, and Koumokuten breathes, "Shashi," while looking almost afraid.

Shashi is confused by this reaction, and the way he's looking at her, squaring his shoulders like he's gearing up for a fight. She's never met this unattractive man before, and she's certain she would have remembered his face. Perhaps she's met the woman? No, no help there either. She would have recalled such a tall, dark-skinned female with blond hair. The Amazon is gazing at her, her eyes wide, instinctively reaching for her man's hand like he'll protect her from a perceived threat. But no, Shashi realizes… she's reaching for him like _she'll _be doing the protecting here, and means to reassure him that she'll take care of this.

The realtor forces a smile, and agrees, "Why yes, my first name _is _Shashi, Mr. Kuro. Now, this house is a _lovely _modern home, with all sorts of amenities and a spacious yard. And a pool, to boot," she continues as she leads them up the front walk.

"A pool?" Koumokuten tries to confirm, lighting up. "Sweet. Baby, didja hear that? You can lounge around in a bikini and I can see it from the windows."

"And then you can come down and join me, Koumokuten!" Aguni grins pervertedly, and a look of extreme distaste crosses Shashi's face.

Ew, the thought of this man showing any more skin than he's showing now is sickening, startlingly so. Granted he's ugly, but something about him just sets her teeth on edge. She wouldn't be surprised if he's into sadomasochism (no), he's raped women before (no), he's involved in shady business deals (no), and he's a pervert (yes, but Aguni is actually a bigger pervert than he is).

But Shashi puts on her professional face, squiring them from room to room, chattering about the fancy light fixtures and the improvements the current owners have given this house. Finally she concludes, "As you can see, a mansion like this is worth an awful lot. You _are _able to afford it, aren't you?"

"Yeah. I'm an executive in Garuda Corporation," Koumokuten replies, like this should mean something to her. "It's a new gig, about three months old. But my paycheck is infinitely higher than it was at my old company, and so Aguni and I thought we might as well buy a house that fits our new lifestyle. And I think this is it, right babe?" he smiles at Aguni, who beams like the sun.

"Yes, Kou! This will be our new home," she proclaims grandly, and Shashi titters, "Fabulous. We'll start the paperwork as soon as possible."

"Awesome, awesome. Heh, babe, this house'll be great for the kiddos when we have 'em," Koumokuten says happily, and Shashi can't stop herself from saying snidely, "Let's hope they favor their mother more than their father."

Koumokuten's eyes narrow and he opens his mouth to retaliate, but before he can –

"Koumokuten is my beloved fiancé," Aguni says imperiously, stepping in front of him like she's blocking him from a physical attack, "and if you insult him like that anymore I'll request a different realtor! And lodge a complaint," she smiles, more a baring of teeth than anything else.

Shashi blinks, surprised, as Aguni's fiancé beams in startled pride and chips in, "Yeah. Yeah, like she said."

Shashi fights the urge to heap abuse onto him, thus ending any further prospect of contact with this ugly weasel. But her intelligence comes to the forefront and reminds her that professionalism shouldn't be discarded so easily, just because she has a visceral and irrational dislike of Koumokuten.

So she just smiles as contritely as she can, and murmurs, "Of course, my apologies."

But once she gets back into her car, her face turns disgusted and she hisses, "UGH! That man is loathsome! He's creepy, he's rude, he's ugly, and he's a pervert! I want to get him out of my brain," she mutters testily, turning the radio on.

But he keeps popping up, him and Aguni. It irks Shashi, and by the time she goes to bed, she's mad. But she has strange dreams, some involving Koumokuten or Aguni, but not most. Most involve Taishakuten and a red-headed boy, their son whose name she never remembers when she wakes.

And other people too: a dark-skinned blond beauty with big green eyes, shy and sweet; a handsome man with black hair and pointed ears; twelve masked men who always stick together, and she never sees even eleven without the the other one. And when she looks at herself in the mirror, she wears gloriously fancy clothes, fit for a princess – fit for an _empress_, no mere princess would rate what Shashi has on in those dreams.

Weird.

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And the dreams come on other nights too, for weeks on end. Some are terrifying, of herself being hunted, caught, and exterminated. Whatever happened to the idea that your brain won't let you die in your dreams, she wonders desperately as she wakes in a cold sweat, eyes wide and staring at the familiar surroundings of her bedroom. The hysterical terror and pain was bad enough, but she _died!_ Something's messed up here, and maybe she needs professional help.

So, getting up three hours later because she couldn't get back to sleep, she grumpily turns on her computer and types in "psychologist Nakano-ku," then reads the results. Whoa, there are an awful lot! Dr. Suisho Kokuju, Dr. Kajiki Mai, Dr. Genrou Miaka, Dr. Fujima Megumi, Dr. Kita Bishamonten, Dr. Kiryuu Juri –

Hmmm… Dr. Kita Bishamonten. The name is familiar, so she'll go with him.

_Yuki probably saw him at one point, _she thinks with a little sigh and roll of her eyes.

Her friend Yuki is a psychology hypochondriac, convinced that she's afflicted with all sorts of mental maladies. Really, the only one she's afflicted with is Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, and it's not even very strong. Mostly, it manifests in her perfectionist tendencies and her obsession with mental illnesses she's certain she has.

And so Shashi emails Dr. Kita to set up an appointment time, gets an email back with some openings, sends one to confirm this Friday at 3:30, and it's done. Waiting is incredibly difficult, and as she does, she has to be somewhat afraid of what he'll tell her. Maybe he'll tell her she's nuts! But no, everything else is normal, she's not putting tinfoil on her head to block out the alien mind-control beams, or anything like that. She's not even having depressing feelings or wanting to kidnap that sexy new realtor guy, the one who's ten years younger and looks like a male model. She's just having odd and disturbing dreams, that's all.

So, at 3:25, she pulls up to a nice, classy-looking office complex, with nice gardens and fine brickwork on the outside. She strides inside and studies the directory, finding "Dr. Kita Bishamonten, PsyD" on the second floor, Suite 15. She takes the stairs instead of the elevator, trying to be as calm as possible, and opens the door to see a nice, boring waiting room. It's easy to tell it's a therapist's waiting room, due to the magazines about health and mindfulness instead of business or popular culture, the little fountain, the comfy chairs, the soothing instrumental music, and the little brain-teasers set on the table. And of course, boring wall art with messages like "Breathe deeply" and such.

At 3:30 on the dot, the door to the office swings open, and the psychologist walks out with a welcoming smile. He's tall, with long red hair pulled into a low ponytail, a goatee, and huge-irised, long-lashed black eyes. And he's dressed elegantly: a tie, a suit, and nice shoes. He's a very handsome man, beautiful even, which is possibly why he has facial hair so no one can mistake him for a woman. Then again, with hair like that and his broad shoulders and probably chiseled torso, that's not very likely.

He smiles some more and bows, greeting her with a pleasant, "You must be Ms. Kougou. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You too, Dr. Kita," she replies as she mimics his movements. "Look, I have to tell you, I don't believe in a lot of psychobabble. I'm not insane, I'm just having strange dreams and I need you to tell me why and how to get rid of them. Once you have, our business together will be complete," she tells him in a brisk, no-nonsense tone.

_Ah, one of those,_ Bishamonten thinks with a slight mental smirk. Every other time, they've turned out to be extremely neurotic. But he smiles understandingly and tells her, "That sounds completely reasonable, Ms. Kougou. Why don't you come in and we'll get started."

He ushers her into the room, and big surprise, it has that stereotypical psychologist's couch, but also a nice comfy chair closer to the desk. Feeling like she has to prove a point, she takes the chair with an almost challenging air. He lets it go without comment, grabbing his laptop from his desk and sitting down in his chair with the sentence, "For notes, you see."

"I thought you guys took notes by hand," she replies in surprise, thinking of every movie, comic strip, and TV show she's ever seen.

"Oh, the days of notepad and pen are long gone," he chuckles, booting up his laptop. "Typing is much, much faster, and more organized too. I used to have to enter all my notes into my computer anyway, so I was quite pleased when I acquired my first laptop. Now, Shashi – you don't mind if I call you Shashi?"

"Only if I can call you Bishamonten," is her flat response, and he smirks a bit before he tells her, "If that's what will make you more comfortable, please go right ahead. As I was about to say, please tell me your life story and why you're here."

And so she does, starting with her childhood, then moving on to her wild teenage years, then to Taishakuten: dwelling mostly on what a dick he was, abandoning her for a man while pregnant. She tells Bishamonten about how she gave the baby up and how she now wishes she hadn't, tells him about how she rebuilt her life, tells him about her job, and tells him about the strange dreams, which began when she met that "baboon-faced idiot and his tranny gold-digger." That last part was said so sweetly, with such an angelic little smile, that he immediately writes, "passive-aggressive!" in italics for emphasis.

The time flies by, and finally he tells her, "I think we made a good start. Now, shall we schedule for the same time next week?"

"I suppose so," she sighs, pulling out her smartphone. "And then, will you tell me what my dreams mean?"

"I don't know what they mean yet," he tells her gently. "I have to get to know you better before I can start to really help you. But don't you feel a little better, just talking about them in a nonjudgmental setting?"

"I… yes. A _little _better," she grudgingly admits, and he has the sense that such an admission is the best he's going to get right now.

Once she leaves, he chuckles to himself as he writes more case notes. Ah, she definitely has some anger and resentment issues, and impatience issues as well. But she's come to the right man, because he's treated many patients like her.

He sees a wide variety of clients, with males being the slight majority but there are a number of women too, like poor Miss Endo, who watched someone get shot in a holdup and has a fear of going out in public now. She's taking a lot of work, just like Mr. Asahina, an obese and depressed man with severe Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, to the point he has to circle his chair three times before he sits down, even in public. But Bishamonten is good with them, which is surprising given his arrogant Tenkai self… but then again, certain motivations and influences are completely absent in Tokyo so far.

He goes home with no more thoughts of Shashi than of any other new patient, thinking mostly of what he'll make for dinner. When he walks in the door, he's barely put his briefcase down and called, "I'm home, Shizuka!" before his cat is strolling towards him, meowing a combination greeting/plea for food.

Shizuka is an elderly brown tabby, plump and with her fur whitening. She's succumbing slowly to arthritis, but she still has hopefully five or so more years to live. He remembers with nostalgic fondness when she was younger; she was a scamp, knocking vases and glasses over, jumping out from hiding places to play-attack his pant leg, climbing onto his shoulders as he tried to type. She's still sweet, and at least he can finally have flowers in vases around again.

"Are you hungry?" he asks wryly, opening the cupboard where he keeps her food. "How could I have ever guessed that, hmm?"

"Mrrr," she assents in a raspy trill, twining around his calves. Avoiding tripping or stepping on any feline body parts with deft skill, he prepares her food and sets it down, stroking a gentle hand along her back.

He often thinks Shizuka is a substitute for human love, one he's quite happy with. All humans in some way desire companionship, and with no significant other or many close friends, he fulfills that need with his cat. …Ah, he's analyzing himself again.

_Turn off, Bishamonten. You start doing that and you'll drive yourself mad._

"I met an interesting lady today," he tells his pet, as Shizuka completely ignores him due to the food. "She says she doesn't believe in 'psychobabble.' But at least she's willing to give me a try, and she seemed receptive enough to my questions. Of course, they were just about her story, so perhaps once I start the actual probing queries things will be different. As it is, she does seem to have a wicked sense of humor," he chuckles, recalling her words about Koumokuten and Aguni.

No response from Shizuka, she's too busy eating. But he goes on in a musing tone, "She seems a bit haughty, but so far polite to me. Of course, we'll see her true colors when I tell her something she doesn't want to hear, which happens in every therapist/patient relationship. But ah well, we'll just take it one session at a time," he smiles, blissfully ignorant of the heartache Shashi will sow in his life, months down the road.

.

A mere four weeks later, he's pulled out one of his favorite diagnostic tools: the Rorschach Test, that iconic bunch of ink blobs to see what people can see, thus illuminating the workings of their minds. Shashi seems pleased by this, because it's something she expected. So now, as he holds up the first card, he asks seriously, "What do you see here?"

"A crown," she answers with no hesitation, nodding firmly because it's so obvious. "One of those European ones with the fabric and all the gems. I see a crown, very clearly."

He seems a bit surprised by this, and unbeknownst to her, he's thinking, _Now that's an unusual answer and no mistake. Most people see a mushroom, a mushroom cloud, a bush, or a leaf. I myself see a fist, which is not unheard-of for this one. But a crown is an answer I've never gotten before for this particular image._

He writes it in, then holds up another and questions, "And this one?"

"A dagger and a blood spatter."

"And here?"

"A face with big poofy lips, with lipstick."

"This one?"

"A necklace, with big jewels…"

And so on and so forth. Many of her answers are unusual, but not all by any means. He's done this test enough that he recognizes the absence of answers that would indicate a number of common mental illnesses, and he's very curious to see what the results will tell him.

Finally they end, and he smiles at her and soothes, "That wasn't so bad, now was it?"

"No," she admits, then demands, "So what do my results say?"

"I have to analyze them," he tells her gently. "At our next session, I'll tell you what your results are. Just try to relax, all right? Do some self-soothing, and distract yourself if you need to when you get home."

She sighs, nods, and tells him goodbye, then leaves with a frown on her face. She doesn't want to wait, she wants to know _now!_ Oh well… at least he's being up-front about it. That's a good thing, and he's always been up-front, hasn't he? Surely so.

And then, out of the blue, there is a sense of wariness. Or to be totally accurate, a sense that there _should be _a sense of wariness around this man, that she should be on the alert for… something dangerous, she has no idea what. But she snorts and shakes her head, annoyed at her own mind. Why should she be wary of a psychologist? Perhaps if he'd looked at her like a predator and asked inappropriate questions, or said things that might have had double meanings, or been condescending and rude to her, but he's been completely professional and very nice instead.

She likes him. He's a good doctor, one who doesn't talk down to a novice at psychotherapy and at the same time teaches her things she never would have known otherwise. He whets her appetite for knowledge, and he's always happy to feed it. And he sees through the tricks she pulls to distract him from a sensitive subject, without even being aware that she's doing so.

So she tells that suspicious part of her mind to take a hike. Why be afraid of Kita Bishamonten?

.

Next week, she's a tad apprehensive about her results. What if they show some sort of mental illness? What if she's slowly going insane? So she bluntly asks him, as soon as she sits down, "Did the Rorschach say I'm nuts?"

"Your test results, Shashi, indicate that you are completely sane," he smiles so reassuringly, tapping his finger against the top of his laptop. "In fact, they indicate that you are exceedingly non-depressed, not bipolar, and quite intelligent." He pauses, then mentions, "There is one… rather unusual thing, however."

She just waits silently until he murmurs, "You have the highest self-esteem I've ever encountered in all my years as a therapist. And the most intriguing part is that I see no traces of buried insecurity or self-loathing, which is often the case in those who are –" _megalomaniacs,_ "– possessed of such self-confidence."

"Oh," she says happily, as he thinks to himself, _It's almost dangerous, your high self-esteem. It's not truly __megalomania__, but it's definitely approaching that. And yet, I feel reluctant to say anything. Maybe I'll just have to ease you into it over a period of sessions._

"But they also indicate that you have anger issues," he has to add, and her smile falters. "I've noticed that you're carrying a lot of it with you still, and you've mentioned blowups, not just immediately after Taishakuten left you either. I can see by your face that I'm accurate."

But she goes red and snaps, "I have a _right_ to be angry!"

"You can't live your life consumed by anger," he tells her quietly, his gaze locked with hers. "Some anger is good, because it motivates us to change our situation and is a natural, healthy thing, but when you let it take over your thoughts, you run into problems. You _have _to let this anger go, because I'll say it again: you can't live a well-adjusted life consumed by it."

_Oh, yes I can, _something hisses in the back of her mind, something cold and prideful. _I can so. Taishakuten betrayed me, he hurt me, and since he wasn't made to pay, something somewhere has to be._

"I can work with you on your anger," Bishamonten's saying, yet she says nothing in response. He coaxingly goes on, "There are ways to calm yourself down and think rationally. It's called 'anger management,' surely you've heard that term before. It's a real, helpful thing, and while yes it takes time and work, the results are real too. I think you could really benefit from it, and you'll feel so much better when you let that resentment go, for one."

"Why are we talking about this?!" she explodes, making his eyes go wide. "I came to you for those crazy dreams, which I still have! Why do you want me to learn anger management?!"

"Because the mind is a complex thing, and what affects one area affects the other," he replies so nonchalantly, and he's telling the truth. "But if you're not open to anger management just yet, all right. Just keep it in the back of your head, and we'll focus on those dreams."

She calms down, grateful that he's not pushing it. But he notes her resistance to the idea in his laptop, even as he's smiling with her about something else. They talk about her week, speculate on what last night's dream might mean, and then he tells her to see if she can change future ones, by planting suggestions before she sleeps. He cautions that it won't work the first few times, "But soon, you should be able to escape whatever's hunting you, for example."

And then, when she goes to bed, she has a fantasy world dream unlike any before. Bishamonten's in it… and he's in her bed, taking off fantastic armor as his hair's in an exceedingly gay style, or so she would think if her Tokyo consciousness had made itself known. She's hungry for him, desperate for his body, and he's hungry and desperate too. She feels each sensation keenly, heightened sensitivity as he touches her, and when he enters her, it feels delightful.

Yes, the two of them, making love –

Actually, no. There's no love here, there's just lust. He seems sad almost, like he's doing this because he can't help himself, not because he wants to.

But she feels triumphant, wrapping her legs and arms around him and forcing him as close as possible, gloating as his movements speed up. She comes twice so far with him, and he comes twice too, within less time than is humanly possible. Whee, godly sex abilities! Part of her Tokyo mind is showing up now, and it's all excited and murmuring that she must be very horny, to be having a dream like this.

At the _third _climax, she wakes, moaning aloud and grinding against her hand, which she unconsciously put between her legs. Whoa… she must have been more sexually frustrated than she thought, she thinks as she recovers. It wasn't a huge orgasm when she woke, but in her dream it was a monster one. Yowza.

She opens her eyes in the dark room, and thinks this latest dream through. Maybe it's logical to have had it, because she's touched herself to thoughts of Bishamonten before. But for him to show up in her fantasy world is something that's never happened prior to tonight, and it's very odd, especially how he looked.

He had a huge, round gem on his forehead, an amethyst so deeply purple it was nearly blue, and that hair jewelry sported an answering gem, set in the middle of the gold. How weird was that? Why did she dream that the man had an _updo_ and a half-orb on his forehead like some sort of body-mod aficionado? Okay, the amethyst was set in the middle of his forehead, in the "third eye" position that symbolizes all-seeing, enlightened power, so was her subconscious trying to tell her that he knows more than he's telling her?

And he was clean-shaven too, which looked very natural. In fact, it was more natural than the goatee he has now, and she suddenly realizes that she's always thought he looks weird with that facial hair. He just… he's handsome and all, but he'd look better if he lost that beard.

She heaves a sigh, turning over and burying her face in her pillow. Bishamonten, Bishamonten, Bishamonten… what is it about him that makes him seem so familiar, and so easy to believe? She doesn't actually know all that much about him – nothing about his personal life, he could be married with six kids for all she knows, but for some reason she thinks he's single, and straight too, not gay.

He's almost like a Rorschach Test, part of her whispers. She's projecting her thoughts and likes onto him, isn't she? Why does she think he's a single straight man? He could very well have a male lover that he's been with since high school!

"I dunno," she groans aloud into her pillow. "I don't know if I should even tell him about this dream."

She wrestles with that question all week, and then, on the Thursday before her next appointment, she gets the brilliantly simple idea that she'll just tell him it was some other man! Great, he won't think it's him, and then they can discuss why she had such a sexy strange dream, because none of the others involved anything like that.

So, when she's back in that chair, she sighs and tells him, "I had a most unusual dream this past week, where something happened that hasn't before, in that dream world."

"Oh?"

"Okay. I was in my fancy bedchamber, and there was a man with me. You know, in the sexual sense of the phrase," she says easily, betraying no shame or apprehension at discussing something like this. Maybe, deep down, it excites her to talk about sex with him, but she's not consciously aware of that yet.

Bishamonten makes a note, asking, "Was there anything unusual or striking about this man?"

Shashi nods and glibly answers, "Yes. He had red hair, sort of like –" _exactly like, _"– yours. He was very handsome," she tells him honestly, staring at his mouth.

That mouth smiles slightly and murmurs, "I would hope so. So Shashi, as you know, red is often seen as a sexual, passionate color, but in Jungian psychology, it's also the color of anger or aggression. I see a possible meaning to your dream, given such an approach: you're giving in to your anger. Does that make sense to you?" he asks so very cluelessly, and for a minute she's floored that he doesn't get it.

But her acting skills come to the forefront, and she smiles as she agrees, "That makes sense. Anyway, Bishamonten, we were really into it, and I enjoyed it more than anything else for way too long now," she smirks, amused that he won't think the "we" means him and her, just Not-Bishamonten Dream Lover and her. "Funnily enough, he was wearing this crazy armor and hair jewelry, until I got it off him."

He considers what to say next. Asking "Did you climax?" could easily be taken as an inappropriate question, and she might think he's trying to hit on her. But that's an important piece of information, because if she didn't, this dream could point to frustration and a feeling of being cheated in her daily life. Yet he decides to let it go without comment, because he doesn't want to make her uncomfortable. There are other ways of finding out if she's frustrated in her day-to-day interactions, after all. And somehow… he knows she came.

So instead he tells her, "That is a very interesting dream, quite different from all the rest. What do _you _think it means?"

"That I was really horny and needed to get off. Which I did," she answers with no discernible shame whatsoever. "I mean, this early-forties guy came three times, in intervals of what felt like only twenty minutes or so. I dreamed of three orgasms too, and when I woke up, I was having the last one."

_Se-xyyy! _the masculine parts of Bishamonten's brain sing, but he ignores them with the ease that comes from practice. Psychologists, psychiatrists, and regular therapists have to do that, because they'll inevitably hear a lot about sex in their careers.

So instead he just casually smiles, "How nice. So, Shashi, have you had any other unusual dreams in the past week?"

Yes, and she tells him about them, but her mind is still on the sex dream. It's bugging her that he's so obtuse, and it's bugging her that it's bugging her. It shouldn't matter, right? It was just a dream, right? She's had sex dreams about other men she knows, although granted none of them were in that fantasy world, but still, why does this affect her so much? Why is that goatee driving her bonkers, to the point she wants to bring an electric razor with her next time and forcibly shave it off?

"You should be clean-shaven," she suddenly blurts out, then flushes in embarrassment. Does it really matter if he has facial hair or not? So yes, it looks almost wrong on him, and yes in her dream he was goatee-less and with his hair twisted up, but really, what an inappropriate thing to say.

He stares at her for a moment, both confused and wanting to smile, "And your hair should be elaborately styled, not loose." But then it passes, and he asks almost indulgently, "Why exactly should I be clean-shaven?"

She visibly collects herself, then gives him the answer, "Because the goatee distracts from your features. People focus more on it than your strong jaw, your nice nose, and especially your lovely eyes. If you'd shave it, I'd be willing to bet you'd get lots of women hitting on you, and your girlfriend would be very happy with how you look."

"I don't have a girlfriend," he sighs a bit mournfully, but something in him really likes the clean-shaven idea. Still, he goes on, "And I don't like being incessantly hit on by women who aren't what I'm looking for."

He doesn't have a girlfriend. This stands out more than anything else he's said, and she makes herself file that thought away to deal with later.

But right now, she has to be cool and act like it doesn't matter to her in the least, so she titters, "Well, okay, but I still think your face would really look better without that goatee. A little classier, actually."

He likes looking classy, he has to admit. So once she leaves, he pulls out his pocket mirror (he's so vain he always carries one), and studies his face. Maybe he _would _look better if he lost the goatee, and the fact that Shashi would find him more attractive intrudes into his mind before he can erect a barrier against it. When he registers it, though, the expression on his face suddenly turns a bit panicked.

Uh-oh. That's not what he should be thinking! His job means he should automatically be able to thwart the evolutionary drive to find a mate! But men are men, women are women, and unless they're homosexual, there's going to be some attraction to a desirable member of the opposite sex. He's well aware of that, but c'mon now, it's still bad.

Besides, even if he did (which he doesn't! Really!), she's a patient who has no interest in him. Patient/therapist affairs are _bad_, and people lose their licenses over them for very good reasons. It's unfair to the patient in the worst way, because they're no longer dealing with an impartial helper, they're dealing with someone too close to the situation with authority over them. So even if he wanted to do something like that, she wouldn't want him to. Right? Right.

Having come to that conclusion, he's able to put such an unsuitable attraction out of his head, and focus on the notes. But when he gets home, her comments about the goatee keep clamoring in his head, until finally he makes the wild and crazy decision to go ahead, shave it off! He walks into his bathroom with a determined gait, and before he can talk himself out of it, he turns on that razor and starts to shave.

Whoa. He _does _look hotter without it, he thinks proudly once he's done. Hmm, he's had it since college, and his face has grown more angular since then. To be totally honest, he grew it in the first place so he wouldn't look so "girly," as the taunts from enemies had labeled him. But he's since gotten much more muscular, and masculine around the jaw, so ha, he doesn't need it anymore. So… why does he have a second sudden urge to put his hair into a _high _ponytail, to go along with the smooth face?

Well, all right, he's seen other men with such things, but he never thought it would look good on him. Yet staring at his reflection, he has the overwhelming sense that he's _supposed _to wear his hair up, why he has no idea. But oh well, if this is a mini-makeover, why not try that too? He can always put it back into a low ponytail if he decides he doesn't like it. But when he's styled his hair like that, he concludes that he likes this better as well.

Shizuka gives him a rather perplexed stare as he comes out of the bathroom, feeling lighter somehow. As he picks her up, he sighs, "Oh, don't look so surprised. I'm still me, you know me. Remember, the man who gives you food?"

"Mowr," she replies lazily, settling into his arms. Her man may look different, but he walks the same, sounds the same, smells the same. No fur on his face anymore save for his eyebrows, but still her man. She's unconcerned.

.

Friday rolls around again, and he's had many compliments on his lack of facial hair, just like Shashi said he would. Miss Endo even flushed a bit as she said shyly, "Dr. Kita, you look really – you look really nice without that goatee."

He just smiled and pretended not to notice the flush, but thought, _Uh-oh, another one. _

He's had patients fall for him before, both men and women, and while sometimes it can be worked out if caught early enough, other times he has to terminate the relationship and pass them on to someone else. But he's never been seriously attracted to one himself, which is why it's so odd that Shashi –

He slams a vaulted steel door shut on that line of thought. No, not letting that one out again. He's poked at it already. He ignores thoughts that whisper, _But what if she wanted you too?_ _That'd be completely different,_ and pretends he just hung up his phone when she comes in.

She gasps, then beams like the sun and laughs, "I _thought _I might see you with no goatee! You look so much better without it. And let me guess, everybody else likes it too, right?"

"Well, not _everybody_. Patients who dislike change hated the loss. But yes, the response has overwhelmingly been positive," he smiles proudly, then pats his ponytail and asks, "Did you notice this?"

"Sure did! That looks nice too," she giggles, then takes her seat as they begin the session.

First a discussion about her lingering anger about Taishakuten, then about some dreams that dealt with the man… but through all of it, she can't help but watch Bishamonten's mouth, admire his eyes, admire his body, everything. He doesn't notice because she's good at checking men out while not seeming to, but still.

By the time she gets home, she's in a bad mood about all this. Hmph, how terrible is that, to have the hots for your _therapist? _She grouchily turns her computer on, hoping to find some forum that can shed some light onto this perplexing and dangerous attraction. She types "attraction to therapist" into the search engine, and blinks at the number of results – in the hundred thousands, from scholarly, news, and therapeutic sites to fiction about it and chat rooms.

Apparently it's a very common thing to romantically want your therapist. That makes her feel a little better, but not much. After all, crossing such a line means you end your doctor/patient relationship, and she wants him to keep helping her because he's already been so helpful. He's let her examine Taishakuten's betrayal in a safe setting, is coaxing her through the anger, and he's never judged, ever.

Would he judge this? Many of the scholarly/therapeutic sites assert that it's best to get it out into the open, and work through it so you go back to normal. Yet him turning her down would hurt, it would hurt a lot, so best to keep quiet and think of him all alone in her bed, with stupid lines and fantasy actions.

In her head, he can kiss her and say, "I want to explore your body, not just your mind"; he can press her down on the couch and murmur, "Do you feel like engaging in some _sexual _roleplay?"; he can pull her into his lap and smirk, "Let's play 'Doctor,' Ms. Kougou!"; and he can rip her skirt off and purr, "I've recently heard about a therapeutic technique where the psychologist goes down on the patient, and you say anything that comes to mind. It'll be enlightening."

Hoo boy. But, see, it's giving her a little thrill too, doing something so bad. She has an evil personality, and things labeled as negative often give her a kick. So, because nobody else ever has to know, she clicks on an erotic fiction site and enters the tag "therapist/patient."

Most of the writing is abysmal to the discerning eye, but Shashi's a realtor, not a writer, so she doesn't mind paragraphs like, "He took her bra off she moaned happily and pressed his head down. He began to suck her big tits. And his big cock got even harder!"

Yeah. But to her, it's fodder for some self-pleasure.

.

Another Friday, another therapy session. But this time, Shashi has a dream to report that will really affect Bishamonten.

"So good to see you," he greets with a heartfelt smile, as he ushers her over to her chair. "How was your week? How are the dreams? And did you make sure to write them down in that notebook I see you're holding?"

She proudly answers, "Yes, I did. But sometimes my handwriting is hard to read, since I was doing it in the light of a reading lamp while I was tired. I had one very vivid, very long dream, and it wasn't a frightening one, it was a _fun _one. Except – well, most of it was permeated by a sense of scheming," she admits with an unconcerned shrug, flipping the notebook open and finding the recollection of that particular flight of her subconscious.

"Scheming, you say," he murmurs as he opens her file on his laptop. "Do you usually view yourself as a scheming person?"

"Yes," is her flat answer. "I'm always trying to figure out how to get people to do what I want them to, from clients to store clerks if I have a problem. And usually, I do get my way," she smugly sums up, and this is not a surprise at all to him.

"Well, that's a skill you definitely have. But tell me about this dream," he encourages, his fingers poised over the keyboard.

She nods, and launches into it: "You know how I told you I sometimes have dreams about that dark-skinned woman with the shiny blond hair? She was in this entire dream, and if felt like the most natural thing in the world, like we'd been together – not in the romantic sense – all our lives. But we had just been chosen as priestesses to this tribe of people with pointed ears and golden eyes, and usually black hair but not always. It was a huge honor to be chosen, and while she was just so grateful and thought she didn't deserve it, I was excited because I was climbing the social ladder.

"We were given the same lifespans as gods! We were humans, but they picked us to be like them, because each new king or queen needed a new set of priestesses. Oh, the king, I should mention him. He was so handsome and classy, and I was scheming to make him marry me, so I could be even _more _powerful. He smiled at me a lot and obviously liked me, and I wish I could remember his name but I can't," she mutters, pouting and feeling like she's missing something hugely important.

"Perhaps it will come with time," is Bishamonten's soothing response. "Did he marry you?"

"Yes, in other dreams. But not in this one. Anyway, I remember being in this fabulous bath with that other woman, and we were giggling and frolicking around in the bubbles. I was teasing her because my breasts were bigger, and I was saying that the king would surely like mine if I seduced him. I was being very mean to her, since she kept saying she didn't want to hear it and I should stop, but I was talking about sex in detail. Although all I knew at that point was from hearing others talk about it and spying on a few couples," she admits with a second shrug.

Bishamonten is suddenly very interested in this dream, and says something he really shouldn't have: "What sort of things were you saying to her?"

Shashi grins evilly, and consults her notebook as she answers, "I wrote down some of the dialogue. I was saying, 'Men like to stick their cocks between big breasts like ours, did you know that? Get them wet with oil, and they can fuck them! Mmm, I would love it if he fucked my breasts, and then, you know, I could see him come from up close and personal! It would be all over my face for me to lick up, isn't that sexy?' And she was getting more and more upset, but it was turning her on too because her nipples were hard," she snickers.

And then Bishamonten realizes something, something _awful_. The low-level masculine enjoyment of hearing about two naked babes talking about titfucks in a bath has gone much higher, quickening his heart rate, and for a very good reason. Oh… fucking… holy… gods. He's turned on, and becoming more so by the second, almost as if her voice is caressing him.

_No. No no no-no! I'm not in a bedroom, I'm in my __office!__ With a __patient__! _he desperately thinks, horrified that this is happening. Bad erection, bad!

"…Anyway, finally I stopped talking about it, and we were washing each other's backs with those rose-scented bubbles –"

_Now calm down, traitorous aroused body. Cold showers, take that! …All right, um, Mr. Asahina naked and jumping up and down. _

And yes, a sudden, cringe-worthy vision of that poor obese man sans clothing, with all the associated flabs of fat jiggling, is a libido-killer like nothing else. It's working, hallelujah. Okay, he can handle this. It'll go away soon, and he'll make sure to take care of himself before he sees her next time so it won't happen again. It'll be fine, no need for there to be a repeat of this inadvertent and perplexing arousal, and if he just ignores it he'll go down soon.

Alas, Shashi is continuing with a matter-of-fact, "And then we were wearing these beautiful skirts, but with just some type of halter breastband," completely unaware of his little problem. "I honestly don't know how those tops stayed on –"

_Asahina Asahina Asahina! _he chants in his head, but this time, he can't hold that vision for more than a second before it morphs into Shashi naked and jumping up and down, oh _g__ods._ And this vision is incredibly detailed and almost in slow motion, damn it all to hell. She's bouncing oh so enticingly, giving him a naughty grin and blowing him a kiss, which of course makes him wonder what else she'd be willing to –

"Shashi," he cuts in, pressing his laptop ever so casually down over his crotch, "do you remember a name for this woman?"

She sighs, shaking her head, and answers, "I should but I don't, and it's so frustrating! If I knew her name I feel like… like a lot more things would make sense," she huffs in her impatience, blowing out a breath upwards so her bangs lift out from her forehead for a second.

"Hmm." He thinks for a moment, then asks cautiously, "Why do you think you should know her name?"

She sits forward, gripping the arms of the chair, and tells him in an intense tone, "Because she's important. Like I said, she was someone I knew for a long time and was very close to. A best friend, or a – I really want to say sister."

"But how could she be your sister?" he chides gently, taking refuge in being a therapist. "Her skin was brown."

"Well… half-sister? Yes, half-sister, but closer than others, like a twin almost," Shashi decides, nodding firmly. "She was gentle and shy, and I'm aggressive and bold, it was almost like we were yin and yang. But anyway, we were dressed in those fancy, skimpy outfits and were participating in a ceremony, doing some ritual dance as the entire tribe looked on. Oh! And I forgot to mention we had these teardrop ruby cabochons implanted in our foreheads, because they were seals…"

And so on and so forth, as he suffers and tries every trick he can think of to make his embarrassing physiological problem go away. But nope, she seems determined to talk about sexy things, until _finally _he's able to interrupt, "Shashi, I'm sorry, but our time's up. We'll have to continue this discussion next week."

"Oh. All right," she sighs a bit ruefully, standing up to go. "The time really flew by today."

For him it seemed to take forever, but he smiles and lies, "Yes, it certainly did. Well, Shashi," he says as normally as he can, making no move to stand up, "I'll see you next Friday. You have a _lovely _week."

"Thank you, you too," she smiles, and walks out without a backwards glance.

After the door closes he lets out a whoosh of breath, sagging in his chair, supremely grateful that she didn't notice. But ow, it still hurts, so he takes the laptop off and testily tells that part of his body, "That's quite enough misbehavior from you. Go back to normal, right now."

_Boobs – sexy dancing – two hotties in a bath – skimpy outfits – titfucks – boobs – _his mind drools, though not so much in words, more like mental images.

He groans and claps his hands to his forehead, tossing his head back and realizing that there's only one solution to this problem. But there's just _no way _he can "take matters into his own hands" right in this office, it's unthinkable. The chance of a mess is far too high, and there's a psychic barrier that howls, "This is not the place for such an unprofessional action!" So the only thing for it is to get up and go down to the restroom, it's right next to his office.

_Please, don't let anyone be walking by in the halls, _he prays as he painfully walks into the waiting room. _And if they are, let them be man who's had the same problem. Or a blind woman._

But he's lucky, no one's walking by, and he's even luckier that the men's room is unoccupied. He picks the stall farthest from the door, locks it, and breathes a sigh of relief. As he opens his pants, part of him still can't believe this is happening, here and now. He's forty-two years old, he's not thirteen anymore, and this by all rights shouldn't have become such an issue. But it has, and all he can do is deal with it.

But it's not safe here, someone could walk in at any moment, and what he has to do is end this as quickly as he can to minimize that risk. So he allows his mind to rush to downright obscene acts and situations, to those kinky things he knows about but has never done himself, and it works because he can feel climax approaching fast. Good, because he's desperate and he's starting to make noises, so into this is he.

"Shashi," he growls as he finishes, then suddenly comes to his senses with a grim twist of his mouth.

This is _bad_, that he's had to get himself off not only to thoughts of a patient, but right here in his workplace bathroom where anyone might've come in. He's certainly been mildly attracted to patients before, but nothing like this. Those other times were purely physical, from beautiful women who wore tight clothes and talked about their sex lives, but he's never become erect like that before, let alone had to rush to the bathroom like he had to today.

So this is what happens when you let yourself be friends with a gorgeous female patient and you're a straight male psychologist, when you drop that professional barrier and start to relate to her as a woman, not a client. Why didn't he realize earlier what that tight feeling in his chest was? Why didn't he see that the reason he looked forwards to her sessions was not so much because of her intriguing story, but because of her intriguing personality? This is the stuff that being barred from practicing is made of.

So it would be wise to try to ignore it, or to beat some sense into himself by listing all her bad points, or calling one of those radio shows where people confess their misdeeds and get condemned by the deejay and the listeners. Surely if he tries hard, he can avert this attraction to Kougou Shashi, realtor with an attitude and a very odd subconscious.

He shakes his head, because he doesn't _want _to do that. He can't, not now. Gone too far, changed too much, and feeling that maybe next time, he might have to throw that laptop to the floor and yell, in a passion-deepened voice, "Shashi, I need you! Let's have _sex!_"

_And that won't end well, _he mutters inside his head as he gets rid of the evidence. _Or maybe I'll think it did while it happens, then we'll come and I'll realize what an awful thing I've done._

He makes himself decent, unlatches the stall door with a trembling hand, and walks somewhat unsteadily to the sink. As he washes his hands, he muses that there's a reason people screw on beds and not as often somewhere else, because he's tired and he wants to rest for a bit. Well, maybe he can sprawl back in his chair and try to recapture this wasted afterglow.

Which is just what he does. For long moments he just closes his eyes and gets his breathing and heart rate back to normal, allowing himself to bask in visions of naked Shashi. They're no longer arousing, they're just sort of – sort of comforting, actually, Shashi snuggled up to him in bed like she would be if this had been sex and not masturbation. But finally the judgments come back, and he covers his eyes with his hands, groaning in despair.

Shit. When it's gotten this bad, something has to be done about it, and he's adamant that it won't be a confession. No, it should be the ending of their relationship, he has to pass her on to somebody else. But obviously, he can't say something like, "I have to terminate our relationship because I want to take you to bed and date you like nothing else, and you turn me on to the point that I have to go take care of myself when you leave."

So he'll have to come up with an excuse to sever their tie, perhaps involving an insurance problem or something mundane like that. And then? Well, he'll never see her again then, and hopefully will move on. But the mere thought of that makes him sigh, turns him melancholy.

He'll miss her if that happens, terribly so. And suddenly, he decides that he won't put himself through it. Nope, he'll put himself through wanting her and having to hide it, but he won't lose her, never to be seen again. Is that a bad, unprofessional decision to make? Yes it is, selfish and unfair to her, but he won't change it, he knows that very well.

.

Weeks pass, months pass, and it turns from want and affection to _love_. It's startling, frightening even, and it _should _be a good thing but like this, it isn't. It's torment, it's torture, spending all his time thinking about her, having to hold back what he really wants to say when he sees her, constantly checking his phone to see if she called. And the rare times when she does, he answers as quickly as possible, no matter what he's doing ("Oh no no, it's fine, I wasn't doing anything important," when he was in the middle of ordering his food at a fancy restaurant).

And for her it's gotten worse too. The dream of them having sex has become commonplace, and everything he does seems to attract her. Wow, he has nice strong hands, and he's a fast typist, sexy! He sips water from his water bottle, and his pursed lips are so cute! He pushes a stray strand of hair out of his eyes, swoon! He walks like a man with a mission, yowza!

She wants him, worse than she's ever wanted anyone before. Is it because it's so _bad _to want him, and forbidden fruit always tastes sweeter? Well, that's definitely part of it, but the majority of this attraction is because he's so kind to her and helpful, and so. Effing. _HOT_, she thinks with a little thrill in her nether regions. She thinks he's hotter than men with their shirts off, while he's wearing that suit! Something's messed up here, although of course she fantasizes to no end about him taking that suit off for her, no one else.

Oh man, she belatedly realizes as she takes the lightrail to his office, it's _love_. It's gone far beyond regular attraction! She feels like if someone threatened him, she would fight tooth and nail to save him even if she got hurt or lost her life. The only other person she's ever felt like that for was Taishakuten – which of course has changed to the complete opposite. If someone was threatening Taishakuten now, she would encourage them to kill him in a very painful way… but she would beg and plead with all she had for them to leave poor Bishamonten alone.

And then he would look at her once she saved him with realization breaking out over his face, seize her hands, and passionately cry, "Oh Shashi! You love me, and I now love you too! Come here, my beautiful patient, and we'll make mad animal love whichever way you want it."

Too occupied in envisioning making mad animal love, she nearly trips as she gets off at her stop. Some dickhead laughs and she hastily corrects herself, muttering inside her head that this is not the time for such fantasies. Once she's in bed, that'll be the perfect time.

She strolls into his building with her head held high, by all appearances unconcerned about anything, but her heart is pounding in her chest as she gets closer. Oh gods, is this going to happen every time? Is she always going to imagine him confessing to her and the two of them having sex on that couch? Should she just tell him, and hope with all her heart that he'll reply that he loves her too?

No, no, no, that's stupid and dangerous, because if he doesn't love her, she'll be in so much trouble and he'll end their relationship. So she decides that she'll keep her mouth shut, because she's pretty sure that he would never let himself love her in return. So why does she put herself through this? Why shouldn't she just tell him she doesn't want to see him anymore, and then she can start to heal? That would be the smart thing… but it would be so hard, harder than anything else in her life right now. Thus she decides, just as he did, that she'll hide the attraction in order to still be around him.

"Hello Shashi," Bishamonten greets her a little too enthusiastically as she opens the door. "So nice to see you again."

"It's nice to see you too, Bishamonten," she smiles warmly, closing the door behind her. "It's always nice to see you."

He smiles back at that, and fervently hopes that this will be like all the other times since the bathtub dream, and he won't get aroused. He took care of himself this morning at home, and he meant to do it here, but every time he went into that bathroom someone was there, or came in soon after. But it'll be fine, he attempts to convince himself as she takes a seat, because what are the odds that she'll talk about something erotic again?

High, very high indeed, he realizes with despair as she seriously begins, "I want to discuss that recurring dream with the red-headed man."

"That's… well, I was hoping we could discuss anger management again," he replies in as casual and non-desperate a voice as he can, but she shakes her head and insists, "I want to talk about that dream. And don't you always say that I have control of these sessions?"

"…Yes. Well, then we'll talk about that dream," he agrees, faking the best smile he's ever faked.

She feels triumphant, and also reckless. Is this a stupid move? Sure, but hormones are egging her on. She launches into a graphic retelling of that dream, but not so graphic that he can say, "All right, that's too much."

It's no more graphic than the titfuck scenario, and of course, his own hormones really, _really _want to hear everything they can, no matter if his intelligent mind is trying to block it out. But nope, nope, he's hearing it all perfectly well, and that damnable physical response is beginning to happen again. Fucking testosterone, it ruins so many things.

She's saying, by now fully into this, "And you know, he was _bigger _than the other two. I love big penises, I love them so much, I –"

Suddenly it's all too much, and he orders in a strangled whisper, "Please stop. Don't say anything else."

Their gazes lock, and she realizes at that moment how much this is affecting him. Oh gods in heaven, she's turned her sexy psychologist on. His face is flushed, he's pressing his laptop onto his groin without even realizing it, his jaw is clenched, and his expressive eyes are telling her, "I can't take this anymore!"

She plucks the laptop from his hands, and as he stares helplessly up at her, she looks only into his face with a quiet, "Bishamonten…"

She absentmindedly sets the computer down, keeping her gaze locked on his, then finally takes a deep breath. She's aware of how his body's changed, yet she doesn't stare at such a thing, just holds those sloe-black eyes that seem torn between want, shame, and fear. Her own must match them, she thinks, and they do, except the shame is much less in her gaze, and the want is more.

"That red-haired man in my dream…" she says softly, then downright whispers, "That was you."

"Really?" he whispers back. "Shashi, I don't… I don't know what to say."

She takes that the wrong way. She thinks he's holding back an admonition, an excuse for his arousal, a fervent plea that this can't go any further, that they have to stop everything. Her face falls, and with defeat in her voice she manages, "I suppose I really should… go, then."

He looks at her intently, taking a deep breath. Her eyes are glowing, her mouth is slightly open, and she's looking right back at him, just as scared and confused and _needy _as he is. And she'll go if he tells her to, she'll go and feel ashamed, and he'll have hurt her when he only wanted to help her. No, that's not true, because he also wanted to _love _her.

So he extends a hand, and tells her in a whisper, "But Shashi… I don't _want _you to leave."

No sooner has he finished the sentence than she seizes his hand, twining her fingers through his, and steps in and sits down on his lap for a desperate kiss. He wants her back! And he kisses back, seizing her around the waist and with his mouth hungrily responding to hers. She can feel the stiff heat beneath her grow even stiffer and more heated with the stimulation of her body on it, and she giddily knows that they're going to have sex, there's just no way they aren't.

They break that kiss and stare at each other with flushed faces for a moment, then she breathlessly confesses, "I've wanted you for quite a while. Now, we _are _going to sleep together, right?"

"Most certainly," is his fervent response, before he kisses her again. When he pulls his mouth back this time, he tells her firmly, "I'm in love with you, this goes beyond mere attraction on my end."

She gives him a huge, giddy grin, and laughs, "And here I thought I was being so bad, falling in love with my psychologist who I thought would be very upset if I ever confessed! Oh, Bishamonten… I love you too," she tells him fervently, going in for another passionate kiss.

Such words make him happier than he's ever been before – that he can remember, anyway. He was absolutely euphoric when Mommy and Daddy gave him a new teddy bear exactly like the old one at age two, because the old one got lost. But for happiness past that, it's no comparison. Birthdays, graduations, gifts, trips… nothing compares to knowing that Shashi is _his _Shashi now, that she feels for him what he feels for her, and that they're going to consummate that love.

"So all along, we were talking about me in bed with you in that dream?" he asks with a grin after they break the kiss. "I'm ashamed to say that the possibility never even crossed my mind, which is really rather terrible. And here I pride myself on being so intelligent. But then, at that point I wasn't in love with you, so my mind didn't take the logical path."

She giggles a bit, then taps him on the nose with a mock-chiding, "You men always think you're so smart, but you miss such obvious hints. Good thing I'm here to explain them to you."

She gets off of his lap and pulls him up, leading him over to the couch as she grins, "Is this couch sacred, or can we screw on it?"

"I… well, I suppose we can screw on it," he decides, even as everything that makes him a psychologist is screaming, "NOOOO!" He ignores it, sitting down and reluctantly continuing, "But I don't have any protection. I mean, I myself am clean on the STD front, but are you ? And do you have birth control, if you still need it?"

"The answer to all of your questions is 'yes,' " she says proudly, sitting down as well. "I'm responsible and intelligent, after all. So, as the Australians like to say, no worries. Now let's quit talking and continue making out," she grins eagerly, running one hand down his chest to his groin.

It feels more than good, her touch on his sex, even through two layers of cloth. But Shashi is eager, and she quickly unbuckles his belt, practically rips his pants open, and reaches through the fly of his boxer shorts to bring out a very nice, very big, and pretty hard shaft. Ooh, yes, just as big as she remembered from the dream, and she rubs a thumb over the head as she titters, "Well he's certainly happy to see me."

"Indubitably."

Soon they're even more hot and bothered than before, and she's taken out his ponytail. The only other time she's seen his hair loose is in that dream, and he must see that on her face because he smirks, "Does it look like you imagined it would, in your X-rated dream?"

"Yes, just like this," she pants in contentment, burying her fingers in his loose hair. "With the – the strands in front of – ahh – your ears, and… the…"

His mouth and hands are making it far too difficult to concentrate on his hair, so she gives up and groans wordlessly, nearly rending his jacket from him in her instinctive eagerness.

"Oh, you've got a good body," she breathes when she gets the shirt off, running her hands across his pecs, then impishly tweaking the nipples. He emits a small, pleased gasp at that, and she grins, "Oh, you like that, do you? So do _I_."

"Well let me try it, then," he grins, pressing her back against the couch and unbuttoning her blouse. And yes, ah, she sure does like it, and she likes it even more when he puts his mouth on those peaks. He's a little out of practice but still good at this, and it's coming back to him fast.

Soon they're fully naked, with the door belatedly locked, engaging in more foreplay and also engaging in another important part of sex: communication. How would he know what she likes if she doesn't tell him, and vice-versa? But they know how to talk to each other during this, probably better than most first-time partners do. After all, his job is to talk to people, and she's good at communicating with him. So words float in the air between moans and pants, words like, "Right there! Right there!" and, "Too hard?" and, "No, it's good like this."

Finally it's time to really get it on, and he positions himself with a low, "I've wanted this for months, you have no idea."

"Same. But it's been a long time since I last had sex," she admits with a slight embarrassed flush. "Go slow, and be gentle, all right?"

"Of course. It's been a long time for me as well," is his honest reply as he starts to push forwards. "Just tell me if it hurts, or if you want me to go slower, and I will. The last thing I want to do is cause you pain, Shashi."

But soon he's all the way in, fully sheathed, and she groans at that sensation of being completely filled. Oh yes, this is good, and her last five partners weren't this big. He groans too, because it's been far longer for him than for her, and he forgot exactly how exquisite being inside a woman feels. Can anything truly compare? No, not really.

And it feels almost sinful, naked and buried in her body on the couch where Mr. Asahina sighs, "I had to count the tiles again," and Miss Endo sniffles, "My flashbacks are getting better, but the violent dreams are more frequent," where people talk about their innermost feelings and pay him to probe their psyches. But at the same time… it's the only available soft surface, and somehow taking her on the floor seems disrespectful, like she would think it's an insult. And truly, there's no sense lying on a hard floor when there's a piece of furniture big enough for two that he made sure was extremely comfortable.

"Are you all right so far?" he pants as his movements begin again, thrusting slowly and gently for now. Her reply of "So far, yes," makes him grin, and he informs her, "I feel better than I have for years, I think."

"Ahhhh…"

A sudden, blinding flash of that dream comes into her head, but this feels even better than that, because he said he loves her. So screw the dream, where there was no love, because this is real and it's far more enjoyable. Soon she wants him to pick up the pace, and pick up the forcefulness too.

"Go harder! Faster!" she pleads in a gasp, pressing down on his back to get him to comply.

"I thought you – wanted me to go – slow," he pants in reply, but obeys quickly. And it doesn't hurt her, it feels damn good, and she urges him even further.

It's almost a dance, part of his mind whispers, aloof and watching this with a scientist's eye. He moves forward, she moves back. She moves up, he moves down, meeting in the middle with a clash of flesh on flesh. The rhythm's perfect, the tempo ever-increasing, the accompanying music their pleasured exclamations, sometimes soft, sometimes so loud he's very glad he has his own practice and doesn't share the office.

The analytical piece of him suddenly has the sense that this is… strange. Strange to make love to this particular woman. Not so much to have sex with her, just… just…

But then it's drowned out, swept away in the tide of approaching climax, dragged out to the sea of that basic, fundamental, ingrained need to release. He groans her name out, starts to lose that balanced rhythm, and gasps, "Are you almost there?"

"Yes!" she tells him honestly, desperately, her nails now leaving lines of blood on his back as she tries to force him impossibly closer. "Just… ahhh… hold on for…"

Instinct says, "Slam into her. Forget what she needs, do what _you _need," but the rest of his psyche drags him back from that edge. Only for a little while, but with the promise that yes, he'll jump off it soon enough, and then she'll leap with him. So he slows his movements, puts his mouth right at her ear, and whispers an explicit sentence he'd probably never admit to saying in public.

"Ah! Bisha– go as fast and as hard as you can!" she nearly screams, because _that_ will get her all the way there, assisted by that particular sentiment. His words were just what she needed to hear, almost shocking to hear him say, but maybe that novelty is part of it.

So when he pounds into her and reaches his peak, that's _it: _she's there. She screams aloud, her entire body convulsing in her pleasure, and for a moment she seems to go blind from such ecstasy. He's in the same boat, his release tightening every muscle in his body and the glorious sensations on overload.

And unbeknownst to them, far down the hallway, a worker staying late listens intently and thinks, _Oh man, two people are getting off somewhere close by. YOW!_

Finally the exquisite crescendo ends, and Bishamonten collapses onto Shashi, both of them short of breath and weakened from such a wonderful thing. Only now do the scratches on his back start to really become painful – only now do they start to become really noticeable, even. But it's still a fairly dull ache, and compared to this afterglow and what just happened they're a small price to pay, he thinks as he gives her a lingering kiss.

Finally she speaks, with a very soft, "I guess I can't be your patient anymore."

"No," he admits, toying with a lock of her hair. "But… I'd still like to help you get to the bottom of those dreams."

"Mmm," she agrees languidly, nuzzling her face into his hair. "But I love those dreams now, because they brought me to you. Just think – if I'd never had them, we wouldn't be here like this. So I'll never complain about them again, even the scary ones," she decides with a firm nod, which he smiles proudly at.

For long, long minutes they just lie there, cuddling and talking softly of whatever comes to mind, and it's usually of a romantic nature. Finally she puts a finger to his lips to cut him off, and asks quietly, "Will you come back home with me? I want to sleep next to you. And we can have sex again, too," she grins in hopeful anticipation, fiddling with a strand of bright red.

He briefly worries about Shizuka, but she has an automatic feeder for her dry food, and a running fountain water dish because he spoils her. So she'll be all right, except she'll wonder where he is and get mad that she doesn't get her canned food. Well, he'll just make sure to give her extra attention when he comes back home tomorrow.

So he grins at his new lover and replies, "I think that would be a most excellent idea. I took the lightrail, so I don't have to worry about my car."

"Me too, so you can just come back with me," she smiles as he gets up, and it's timely because he's starting to get a bit cold, all that cool air on his bare skin.

They dress, and he notes with resignation that there's evidence of sex on the couch, but tomorrow's Saturday so he has all weekend to try to clean such fluids off. There will probably be a stain and thus he'll have to order a new couch, but oh well, a stain is better than dried semen and vaginal discharge. And the odds of other patients figuring out what the stain is from are pretty low, thankfully. Although – damn, that one sex addict guy might catch on, but Bishamonten can just lie and say he spilled some sort of soy drink.

And so he and Shashi walk out of the office holding hands, walk out onto the street holding hands, and wait at the lightrail stop holding hands, each of them thinking similar thoughts. She gives him a peck on the cheek, which he grins at, and then returns to the amusement of the elderly couple waiting next to them. Aw, they remember when things were like that.

As Shashi leans her head onto his shoulder, Bishamonten thinks, _I just violated the code of ethics for my profession… and I really don't care. I'd do it all again, but this time, I'd make my interest known sooner. Gods, this is a wonderful feeling, and I don't think anything in the world could upset me right now. She loves me back, and if you think about it, isn't that miraculous? What are the odds that out of all the people in the world, the one I love is just as into me?_

_Well, _his sensible side points out as the train zips into view, _we __were__ intimately connected. If I'd literally bumped into her on the street and fallen in love, that would really be astounding._

The ride to Shashi's house is filled with meaningful looks, and she surreptitiously holds his hand where nobody can see. Once they get to her stop she keeps her hand in his as they walk out, leading him down the sidewalk with a smug, "People are jealous." Ha-ha, they can't have Bishamonten, neener-neener!

Once inside her home, he surveys her living room with approval. It's perfectly tidy, well-decorated, and the furniture really works. But she hustles him into the kitchen, saying firmly, "We'll just have something fast for dinner. I'll stick something frozen in the microwave, if that's all right with you."

"I suppose so. It's not as if you invited me here for dinner," he smirks, and she smirks back.

Dinner is eaten while talking of their lives, since after all, they don't have to worry about crossing personal boundaries anymore. Shashi learns of Shizuka, Bishamonten learns that Shashi has many casual friends but no close ones, and he tells her that the same is true for him. He talks of his childhood, she talks of hers. She mentions that she really likes donuts but denies herself them because she doesn't want to get fat, he mentions that he hates raw fish, which is really strange in Japan. And then, they discuss how long they've wanted each other, and why.

"You're such a gentleman," she's saying fervently, and it pleases him to hear this. She goes on, "I never knew you wanted me, you were so good at acting proper. But at the same time, you're a modern gentleman, you're not kissing my hand or something old-fashioned like that."

"Oh, but a kiss of the hand can be pleasurable," he murmurs enticingly, capturing hers and bringing it to his lips. "Just so."

He presses his lips to the back of it, then opens them to trail his tongue lightly along the skin. Hmm, it does feel good, she thinks as he pulls his mouth back and smirks, "Our fingers have many nerve endings in them, and they're quite sensitive. Stimulating those nerve endings can be sensual, you know. Like this…"

With that he closes his mouth over her middle finger, closing his eyes as well as he sucks at it. It's like some sort of reverse-fellatio thing, with its phallic overtones, she thinks as her eyes close involuntarily. In addition to the pleasurable sensation, it brings up thoughts of, _He's being the subservient one here, not the one in charge of the act. Part of me is inside part of him, and it's different, and I like it._

"That felt good," she tells him in a lust-shaking voice as he releases her finger from between his lips. "Let's go upstairs, the dishes can wait."

Bishamonten thinks about protesting, being a neat freak, but she's already pulling him up out of the chair so he just gives in. Not putting dishes away isn't the end of world, after all. And so she leads him to her bedroom, a nice big affair with a double bed, and she makes the mental note to put the silk sheets on for next time. But she really can't blame herself, since she didn't seriously think he'd be coming home with her after her latest therapy session.

"I think I'll like falling asleep next to you," he whispers as they embrace again. "And a bed is of course much roomier than a couch."

They make love again, less frantic than the last time, and with her on top of him. She's always liked being on top, because whoever's superior has the power. She rides him happily, quite happily indeed, and once they both come, she collapses onto his chest, boneless and satiated. Ah, two major peaks in less than two hours, that's always something nice.

"I liked that," he tells her breathlessly, stroking his hand down her sweat-dewed back. "It's arousing to have you take charge. Oh, Shashi… I'm so glad you chose me as your psychologist," he grins fondly, taking hold of her face for yet another long kiss.

It's deep, heartfelt, skilled and enjoyable, and when they finally break it she tells him softly, "Me too. I honestly just picked you because your name sounded familiar, though. Thank every good thing in the world that it did, Bishamonten, because I haven't been this happy since Taishakuten and I got married. And somehow, I think this will end better than that," she mutters with a dark look on her face.

And he indeed soothes, "I would never abandon you like he did. That's just cruel, what he did to you."

Conversation continues along those lines, as they snuggle together and lazily touch each other. The sheet is drawn up, the lights are turned out, but still they talk in the dark, facing each other and still embracing. But the pauses in the conversation become longer and longer, and finally the words stop coming altogether. Shashi falls asleep first, breathing deeply and with her head tucked into Bishamonten's neck, and he finally starts to drift off as well, no matter how much he wants to stay awake and savor this. But his eyes have closed of their own accord, his thoughts are getting random, and he can tell he's almost under.

He hears her voice then, in that twilight between sleep and wakefulness: _"Stay. Until dawn, stay."_

"I will," he mumbles softly, not even aware that he's speaking aloud. "Past dawn…"

.

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(AN: So I hear some of you saying, "That was hardly angsty at all! Where's Kisshouten? They were too nice! It was too _sappy!_" My reply? We've still got over twenty-five pages to go. The Bishamonten/Kisshouten is coming and the angst too, in spades. And the nasty personalities, because you _know _that once they figure out who they really are they're going to start being mean to people.

Now for the name explanations. "Kita" is "north," and "Kougou" is "empress." "Inazuma" means "lightning." Also, all the names of the other psychologists are references to pairings from other fandoms that I like. Guess even one correctly, and be praised!

So… I thought the sex scene was pretty good, but what about you? Don't be afraid to tell me what you think. And yes, I'm very well aware that Bishashi is stupid, but I like it anyway. It grew out of my dislike of Bisshouten, lest you think I hate Bish/Kissh because I want him to be with Shashi. I was disgusted by Bishamonten/Kisshouten for the domestic abuse angle long before I even began to like Shashi.

Katsuhika-ku is a special ward of Tokyo famous for its seventeenth-century temple of Taishaku-ten, the Shibamata Taishaku-ten. How could I not put him and Shashi there?)


	16. Shattered Mirror

**Chapter Fifteen: Shattered Mirror**

(AN: More lemons, one a female solo. Bishashi wins the prize for most sex scenes in this fic. Well, they _are _the most physically attractive couple, in my mind.)

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At 7:31 the next morning, Shashi wakes in Bishamonten's arms. She's facing away from him but they've encircled her, one under her side and over her chest and the other thrown over her hip, clasping her tightly like a small child with his favorite stuffed animal. And now that she comes to realize it, she's near the edge of the bed and one of his legs is between hers, as if he's staking a claim to her entire body and the majority of the bed space as well.

So.

_I really did it, _she thinks with a sort of breathless, silent giddiness. _I confessed to my sexy therapist, who in turn confessed to me, we had sex in his office, which was kinky and definitely a first for me and probably him, and then I brought him home and did it again. I have an actual lover now, not a random hookup or fuck buddy._

She grins at the wall, and reaches a hand back to lazily run it down a muscled forearm. She hears a soft, pleased noise from behind her, and a murmured, sleepy, "I like that," before he shifts position and presses his lips to her shoulder. Ooh, that feels nice.

"Good morning, Bishamonten," she practically giggles, turning over to face him. "This is a much better beginning to my day than yesterday, you know: with a handsome, naked man in my bed," she grins gratefully, gently tugging a lock of coral red.

"I much prefer this to – to –" He can't stop a yawn, then sighs, "Pardon me. Anyway, I quite agree that this is a better morning than that of yesterday, there's no contest."

They kiss each other then, and in the cosmic realm of the Bhagavaana, something sits up and takes notice. Ah yes, this. This will lead to suffering, to tears and rage and grief. The General of the Northland and the betrayer of the Ashuras, the selfish cruel man and the selfish cruel woman, two sinners… they do not know what they're going to one day reap. Sad, almost, that they find innocent joy in their new bond, but the Bhagavaana know that ignorance is bliss.

Bliss, yes, bliss, Bishamonten happens to be thinking right then. Love, sex, satisfaction, safety, friendship, affection: put it all together and it spells "_Shashi._" This is what he always wanted but never found before, and as they break the kiss, he can't help but think that the wait was worth it. Delayed gratification really does make the end result taste sweeter, something he's well aware of as a psychologist.

"Want some breakfast?" she asks him, running her fingers through his hair. "I'll make you anything you'd like, provided I have the ingredients for it. Watch me show off my domestic feminine side," she brags as she strikes a pose, vowing to do it all in nothing but a robe that's half-open.

"I'm in the mood for – oh, tamagoyaki," he decides with a nod, always having liked the rolled omelet with his rice and miso. "I could help you with –"

"I just _said_ I want to show off my domestic feminine side," she mock-scolds. "You go take a shower, and I'll have it all ready when you come out, see if I don't. I'm sure you won't mind using lady's shampoo and conditioner _too _much, with this pretty red head," she smirks as she wiggles her fingers against his scalp.

Nope, he doesn't, and he assures her of that. Soon she's off in the kitchen and he's standing naked in her shower, looking around with approval. Her bathroom is very feminine, big surprise. The shower/tub has has fancy scented shampoo, fancy scented conditioner, fancy scented hair serum, fancy scented body wash and bubble formula and soap, and even a fancy loofah. He briefly frowns as he reads the "For brown to black hair" description on the shampoo bottle, but oh well, one session with brunette shampoo hopefully won't harm his red hair _too _much.

When he comes out of the shower, a little miffed that he has no razor to shave with, he finds breakfast ready, and my, she went all-out: rice, fancy miso, tamagoyaki loaded with vegetables and mushrooms, and hot tea as well. She ushers him to the chair across from her, then seats herself with a grin, taking hold of her tea. She raises it in a toast, and proclaims, "To us!"

"To us," he agrees with a fond smile, toasting her back, then sipping the tea as she does the same.

When she puts it down, she gestures at the food and urges, "Dig in. I think I outdid myself today. It's a good thing I went to the grocery store just yesterday!"

He does dig in, and it's delicious. Once his mouth is empty he makes sure to tell her that, and she lights up like a Christmas tree. Hmm, she's easily pleased. And of course he'll make sure to cook her delicious meals too, because he's a good cook as well. Not to brag or anything, but he has a natural aptitude for food preparation, and just like Shashi, he enjoys doing it.

"Shashi, I can say with complete confidence that you are a domestic goddess in addition to being a sexual and beautiful goddess," he compliments as he puts his dishes in the dishwasher, having finished every bite. "Thank you, that was absolutely scrumptious."

"You know what else is scrumptious, Bishamonten?" she asks brightly, looping her arms around him from behind. "Every bit of you. Want to go back upstairs?"

"Sounds like a plan, my dear."

And so, for the third time in eighteen hours, these people have sex. My, aren't they just like a pair of bunnies? So Kujaku thinks as he gets visions in his head of such things, idly sipping his tea in yet another bare, cheap apartment. Interesting, interesting… and so sad that they have no idea what's coming. And yet, though they might end their lives alone and bitter, at least they have this enjoyment now. It's much better to have something good for a while even though it will most likely be taken away from you, yes?

Unaware that a man neither of them has ever met has seen everything, Shashi snuggles up against Bishamonten's chest and coos, "Ah, Dr. Kita… I do think your expertise has proved invaluable."

"That's nice to hear. I thought I was a little rusty. You know how it is, you don't have time to look for a romance and if nobody clicks with you, there's really no point to hooking up just to hook up," he tells her seriously, and she wisely decides not to mention that she's done that a number of times.

She pats his right pectoral and happily sighs, "You're so principled. That's one of the things I like about you, in addition to how smart you are, how nice you are, how well you treat me, and of course, how _hot _you are. Do you know, the first day I saw you without that goatee, I thought you were so yummy I had to go find some erotic fiction about male therapists and female patients?"

"Really?"

He seems quite pleasantly surprised by that, and in turn has to confess, "And do you remember the day you talked about taking a bath with that other woman and saying dirty things? It affected me to the point I had to, well, relieve my need once you'd left. In the men's room, of course."

"Yay!" Shashi cries with exaggerated girly cheer, clapping her hands together and making him chuckle. "Boy, I wish I'd known that. I would have hung around and walked right in there with you. But, you know… I mean, you were my friend first, and that often doesn't happen with my serious lovers. Taishakuten and I were sexual chemistry-based, you know."

"And that often leads to problems," he tells her quietly. "Fireworks are beautiful as they go off, but once they're done, you have nothing solid to build on. I'm not saying it's inevitable that a sexual chemistry-based relationship will fail, because many of them don't, but if desire fades, you have to work harder to keep your happiness."

She nods a bit wearily, then replies, "Well, _we'll _talk things out and never keep secrets. That's another thing I like about you… you tell things to me straight. I mean, I knew I needed anger management but I didn't want to hear it, but you kept telling me it was necessary. I – well, I threw a vase at Taishakuten's head," she confesses in a rush, but she's surprised to hear Bishamonten laugh again.

"Ah yes. I suspected you threw _something _at him. Just as long as you don't throw anything at me, we'll be all right."

.

It's five months later, and Bishamonten hasn't felt happiness like this before, ever. As a child he nodded nonchalantly as he got the best grades the school had ever seen. As a teenager he smiled politely as his parents told him, "Son, we're so proud of our beloved boy!" In college he shrugged as he won awards, because really, he deserved it for working so hard. In graduate school he rolled his eyes as he left his professors' offices, where they had gushed about his "psychotherapeutic genius."

But this relationship with Shashi… he's happier than he ever dreamed was possible. Even the arguments don't derail that feeling for long, because he's good at making up, even if she's too stubborn. He has the ability to give in gracefully, to compromise, and while maybe she takes advantage of that, she's learning to do the same. And always, after even a small fight, there's make-up sex.

They do things in bed that leave him gasping for breath, stunned at her uninhibited skills. And the most wonderful thing is that she enjoys it all, even initiates most of it.

_Where did she learn this?_ he often thinks hazily. _Who taught her __that__ trick? How did she know I'd like it so much? And for Heaven's sake, is she turning me into some sort of male nymphomaniac? Must catch breath from that most excellent orgasm… _

"Shashi," he finally asks her one afternoon when she's pressed against a wall, "how many men have you been with?"

She thinks for a moment, shakes her head, and then replies, "Around twenty, probably a couple more. Why?" she nearly snaps, somewhat annoyed that he's talking about stupid past lovers when they're in the middle of sex.

"It's just that…" he pants, "you're so _adventurous_." It's a clear compliment, and her worries that he might find her promiscuous fly right out the window.

"I did even more with my ex-husband," she tells him in a gasp, "but he never responded like you do. It was like he just didn't care. I often thought he might as well be screwing a dead body the way he used me to get off, for all the attention he paid my needs."

Bishamonten then thinks that Taishakuten was an absolute fool, and immediately feels contrite, disloyal somehow. But why? He's never met the man, why should he feel guilty for insulting someone he doesn't know? Oh well… Taishakuten's loss is his gain, he thinks smugly as she comes violently. And he'll grasp and hold it close, cling to and nurture it, because isn't this what all humans desire? Leaving aside those rare people who truly want to be alone, everyone needs some sort of partner, be it romantic or simply sexual.

_How fortunate, _he thinks as he follows her example, _that I've found both in one._

_._

But all good things must come to an end. One morning seven months after their tryst on the couch, he hums a happy little tune as he reads the morning paper, eating his breakfast as Shizuka waits at his feet, ever-hopeful for a dropped morsel. Unaware of what he's about to see, he idly turns a page in the Arts and Entertainment section, then blinks in surprise at what he encounters.

There, in black and white, is a photo of a beautiful, dark-haired woman, long-lashed dark eyes and masses of wavy hair piled halfway atop her head, with some hanging loose as well. Suddenly he feels like he knows her _exact _coloring, and that she's important, dreadfully so. It makes no sense, because he's pretty sure he hasn't seen her before, but he feels like he knew her well for many, many years. And he also feels that he _must _see her face-to-face, because he's _meant _to.

He stares into space for a moment, wondering why this is. Why does a picture of this – he checks the caption – Ouji Kisshouten affect him so much, compel him to seek her out? He's in a relationship, after all, a relationship that has few problems and they're not very big ones. And yet…

He always trusts his gut, and his gut is telling him that she's incredibly important. More important than Shashi? his conscience demands, and his gut pragmatically replies that he won't know until he sees Kisshouten. He's compelled to find her, and so he checks the article to see how he can make contact, to realize that she'll be playing a concert in just two days at a prestigious music hall. Okay, he'll get a ticket! Somehow, he knows that to bring Shashi would be a dangerously bad idea.

This disturbs him. Doesn't he love her? Something's wrong here, he thinks as they meet for dinner. But he is more withdrawn, she doesn't captivate him like she used to, and in fact, he finds himself getting rather annoyed with her efforts to make him open up. He forces a smile and forces himself to act as if he's just distracted by a problem with a patient, and she believes it. He's very relieved that she does.

_I don't like this, _he thinks darkly as he locks his door behind him. _Something's happening here that I never saw coming, and it's irrational, but at the same time it all feels perfectly logical!_

By the time he reaches the concert hall the next evening, he's in a very bad, conflicted mood. But the longing to see Kisshouten is getting stronger and stronger, and even if he tried harder to fight it, it would overcome his barricades. Does he love her at first sight? Does that even work with just a photograph? What in the world is going on, and dammit, this is taking too long, where is she?!

Then she steps out, smiling at the audience, and he knows _exactly _why he loves her. Kisshouten! His wife, his princess, his reason for everything he did for three hundred years in Tenkai! Oh sacred gods, he was one, he was the General of the Northland, and she was his beloved wife, who he thought despised him yet secretly loved him too. He died in her arms, but he died happier than he thought he ever would, because she was holding him and crying for his death.

Bishamonten and Kisshouten… _that's _the pair that the higher powers intended. And it's like his entire life here was a mirrored distortion of who he really is, and now Kisshouten has shattered that mirror with her smile. Forget Shashi! She was a mistake again, but it's time to remedy that. He'll make contact with Kisshouten, make her remember too, and Shashi can just – fade into the background or something…

He shies away from guilt, and throws himself headlong into the giddy feeling of seeing the woman he so loved in Tenkai here, in front of him, just as beautiful as ever. And happier, he can tell that already. Good! Good, he can explain to her how awful it made him feel that she was so unhappy, promise her that never again will he put anyone else over her, and basically pick up where they left off, crying on a marble floor and realizing too late what he meant to her.

Her music is nearly magical, a soaring piece that fits his mood perfectly. Yes, yes they _will _soar. They'll kiss each other like they never got to back then, and it'll be the most wonderful thing in the world. Well, until he marries her, and their wedding night is full of adoration and skilled pleasure, because he'll show off what he practiced with Shashi and –

Um. Oh dear. Shashi will break completely down when he dumps her for Kisshouten, but maybe all he has to do is tell her who she really is, and she'll get it. She'll scream in horror and probably try to slap him, but he'll just fend her off and go back to his beloved Kisshouten. Yes that makes him feel incredibly guilty and sad now, but once his flower is in his arms he won't be so upset, he assures himself as he claps for the conclusion of this piece.

He belatedly notices something about her then, something he was too excited to notice before, which is a diamond ring on her left ring finger. Not a big one but still, either an engagement or wedding band. For a moment he feels horrified, then mentally laughs it off. Who cares about whoever that fiancé/husband is, because he can't be her true love! He's not Bishamonten, he's not her reincarnated _real _husband, and once Kisshouten knows who she's looking at, she'll dump him because she _has _to.

If the Fate was kind enough to not send Bishamonten to Hell and instead set him in this new world with her, it wouldn't be cruel enough to make her fall in real love with someone else. He is convinced of this, and he has reason to be, given her pleas for him to stay with her as he died. He thinks she probably lived a very sad and lonely life once he was gone, probably crying every night and wasting away, poor woman. Well, he's about to make sure this life ends much, much happier than however it did in Tenkai.

_Oh, my beautiful princess, _he thinks with longing as she begins another piece of music, _we'll make up for lost time. I'll take you to Paris, to the Caribbean, anywhere in the world you want to go. And because we're together, the trips will be wonderful even if we lose our luggage, the locals are rude, and we get infected by a norovirus. And if you do, I'll care for you, with love and patience and no thought to my own inconvenience._

The concert flies by, and it's the happiest time of this life. So far, he thinks smugly as she bows to the applause. Soon he'll be happier than he ever was in Tenkai, soon Kisshouten will be truly his.

He waits around as close to the dressing rooms as he can, because she was wearing an evening gown that she most likely won't be walking around on the street in. He keeps thinking that he should go get her some flowers, but what if she comes out when he's gone? How terrible would that be? And then she steps out, wearing a nice skirt suit, and he rushes over to her with a heartfelt cry of "Kisshouten!"

She turns in the direction of his hail, and what happens then confuses him immensely. She turns pale, downright white, clutching at her chest like she's panicked. Confused, he refrains from embracing her and instead smiles, "Kisshouten, you might not remember me yet, but I'm –"

"Please go away!" she begs, taking nervous steps backward. "Please, _please! _You're going to ruin it all, and I won't let you!" she says frantically, and he is more perplexed than he's ever been before.

But it makes him frantic too, and he goes so far as to catch her wrist and drag her against his chest, as one of the onlookers signals a security guard on the other side of the hallway. He says desperately, with tears in his eyes, "Kisshouten, it's _me!_ Bishamonten!"

She looks him in the eye… and she slaps him in the face. He reels back, stunned and in pain, emotional more than physical. As an interested silence falls around them, she hisses, "No. You ruined me once, I won't let you ruin me again! What you did to me in Tenkai made me a shell!"

"Kisshouten," he pleads, reaching a hand out, "you can't mean that! You said you –"

"Listen to what I'm saying now," she interrupts, drawing herself up to her full height. "You may love me, and I would have loved you here if things had been different, but now… no. I have someone now, someone who _understands._"

He stares at her, a red mark on his face, as various concertgoers point and mutter. "Kisshouten…"

"Leave me alone, Bishamonten," she orders desperately, backing away some more. "Please. Please, just let me go."

"What's going on?" a new voice frantically asks, and every head turns to see another red-headed male break through the crowd. He's young, can't be more than twenty-one if that, and his eyes widen in what looks like horror as he sees Bishamonten. Then he rushes to Kisshouten's side, throwing his arms around her and hugging her tight as she does the same to him. Bishamonten stares, furious and appalled and completely, totally stunned.

Tenou.

_This can't be! Tenou?! How can __Tenou __be in love with __my__ Kisshouten?! _he rages in his head, suddenly wanting to blow something up. This isn't how it's supposed to go! Why would Kisshouten pick that spineless little _wimp _over the man whose head she cradled as he died?!

But Tenou is the shy prince no longer. He's a former _god-king_, and he stares his rival down with eyes that suddenly look quite dangerous, which is astounding to see. Bishamonten's never encountered him like this before, not even on the sparring grounds of Zenmi, and he almost can't believe it. But if he still had the ability to read auras, he would see one that indicates a will so strong, he would be frightened of it, one that is tinged with desperation because Tenou will _not _lose another lover to her intended. Is he fighting Fate? Possibly, but Kisshouten is fighting it just as hard as he is.

"How?" Bishamonten rasps out, looking back to Kisshouten with a pleading look on his face. "How could this have happened?"

"Free will," she tells him solemnly, as people around them wonder what the hell is going on. "I met him first, he was kind to me, and I was kind to him. We became friends while I didn't realize, and when I did, I decided that I wasn't going to let him go. You don't understand what he's like now. You don't understand how he grew once we were gone, and how I couldn't help but fall in love with him, and he couldn't help but fall in love with me."

"But you _can't –_"

"I do!" she defiantly insists, holding Tenou a little tighter. "It's too late, Bishamonten, and while I'm sorry, I won't break us apart for you."

His world has come crashing down, and he can barely stand with the weight of this disappointment and grief. His beloved Kisshouten has chosen someone else over _him? _He never even got to woo her, in this life or the last! He never had the chance to make her feel like the goddess she is, to dance with her, toast her with wine, make her laugh and make her desperately want him in her bed. He never will take her to bed, make her groan his name in ecstasy, hear her tell him she loves him so very much.

And because he is so incalculably in love with her… he lets her go. His voice so choked he can barely speak, he tells her, doing the hardest thing he will ever have to do, "Then I'll never bother you again. Goodbye."

He turns away, and he misses the tears in her eyes as well, which is probably good. She's sorry, so very sorry, and she pities him like nothing else, but she made her decision and she's sticking to it. So Kisshouten and Bishamonten are over, before they truly had a chance to begin. Or rather, they had a chance long ago in Tenkai, but he ruined it with his own actions, which ultimately proved his undoing here in Tokyo.

Bishamonten walks slowly away, then faster and faster, until he's bolting out the door and sprinting down the sidewalk, shoving people aside and not even hearing their cries of anger or pain. He has to escape, dammit, he can't stay here! He needs a quiet, soothing, serene place, a garden where no one else is around – or hardly anyone is around, this is Tokyo after all. He needs a place to calm himself down, because there's just no way he can make himself get back on the subway right now, not after what just happened.

But finally, five blocks down, he sees such a place on the left. He crosses the street and dashes into the park, and since it's 11:00 at night, the park is almost deserted. He slows his walk as he comes up to a small bridge over a burbling creek, stops, leans onto the railing… and cries his heart out, his head in his hands and his soul in misery.

.

Something is wrong.

Shashi knows it, feels it, is compelled to leave her house and seek out Bishamonten. She's called him five times, and he hasn't responded. Is he hurt? Somehow she thinks he's in great pain, and this makes her frantic. She tries his house, but the lights are all off and no one answers, and somehow, she knows he's not just asleep or ignoring her. So she goes back to her car, and casts about for where he would be, disturbed by the feelings and downright frightened that her boyfriend might be dead or in danger.

"Okay, sixth sense," she mutters as she starts the car again, "point me in his direction. You're freaking me out, but if I can save him, I want to."

_Hotohori Park –_

The words just popped up in her mind, and she whistles in surprise, but turns her car in that direction anyway. This is scary, and she has to wonder if maybe she's psychic, and she never knew. Perhaps those dreams were – what? She never believed in ESP or psychics before, but with such evidence in the form of these feelings, maybe she has to recant. Or maybe she's just crazy and he won't even be there, and is just visiting his mother or something, but she didn't want him to stop talking to her and answer the phone.

But Shashi goes into the park anyway, calling for him at first and then just concentrating on following the path, and watching her surroundings. For all she knows, a rapist will jump out at her from the bushes, and she might not be able to fight him off. So she studies everything with a self-defense eye, staying in the middle of the path and keeping her keys thrust between her fingers, so if she punches someone they'll puncture his skin or eyes. But where is –?

There, on the bridge, just leaning onto the railing with his shoulders slumped. She rushes up to him, her heels clicking on the wood, and softly queries, "Bishamonten? What happened?"

He turns to look at her, sighing, "What are you doing all the way out here at night? And how in the world did you know I would be here?"

She just shrugs and replies, "I don't know. I just had a feeling. Now, what happened? You didn't answer your phone. Something must be…" She gets a horrible idea, takes a deep breath, and asks in fear, "Are you breaking up with me?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," he murmurs, because what's the point in pretending things are normal, that they're a psychologist and patient who fell in love, and not a queen and a general who missed his chance at happiness?

Her eyes fill with tears, and she doesn't even register the title. She nearly begs, "Why? Why so suddenly like this? Is there – is there someone else?"

He sighs again and turns back to the water, lugubriously telling her, "Yes. No. Shashi, how can you be so blind to it all?"

She grabs his arm and tries to make him look at her as she hisses, "Either there is or there isn't, Bishamonten. And damn it all, I deserve to know everything! Just yesterday you were _happy _with me, it was like night and day! Yesterday, you were in love with me, I know you were!"

"I was."

He still won't look at her, so she grabs his chin and wrenches his head around, ordering, "Tell me. I mean it, tell me."

He says nothing for long moments, unable to pull away. Finally he speaks: "You'll think I'm insane, or you'll realize what we both should have realized long ago and go berserk. But Shashi, those dreams of yours… they weren't really dreams."

She's both confused and well aware of where this is going as she asks, "So what were they?"

"Memories," he quietly answers. "Of a life you once lived, far from here. You see, you and I _both _lived in Tenkai, and I've just today fully remembered it. You were the queen, the queen who betrayed your first husband to your second, and he – Taishakuten – overthrew the former god-king and claimed his throne. And I was his right-hand man, his loyal second-in-command.

"We _did _sleep together, once. Technically three times in one night, Tenkai's gods were blessed with refractory periods a porn star in this place dreams about," he mutters in self-envy. He watches her remember that night even more clearly than when she dreamed of it, and he spits out, "It was a mistake, one I regretted even as I did it. But it happened, and I'm not surprised that it made itself known to you when we met again.

"Anyway, I always thought you were planning something, probably through your son, the prince. And speaking of your son… I met _him _today," Bishamonten growls, his hands clenching and unclenching in futile rage. "He looks like he did in Tenkai, minus the fancy robes, but otherwise the same, down to the hairstyle."

"What's my son's name?" she pleads, because that's the last piece of this puzzle assembled blindly by feel alone, and when she knows this she'll _remember._

He looks her in the eye, takes a deep breath, and replies, "His name is Tenou."

_Tenou._

Shoulder-length red hair, mostly gathered in a loose ponytail, kind brown eyes and a sweet smile.

_Tenou._

A keen intellect, a talent for swordplay, a fondness for children, a shy demeanor and an unrequited love that could never, ever be. A good person, a friendly young man, a twin whose brother was cast aside. The child she _wanted_, the one who tried to save her when that little monster came to commit matricide, the one who screamed in grief when her life ended and the last thing she saw was Ashura's disturbing smirk.

"Tenou!" Shashi, former queen of Tenkai and current realtor, grabs hold of Bishamonten's coat, everything clear and horrible and unacceptable without her son, and begs, "Where is he? Tell me, Bishamonten!"

"With… Kisshouten."

It's a whisper so soft she barely hears it, but when she does she blanches, suddenly letting his lapels drop and taking a huge step backwards. She knows that name, she knows it well.

"Your wife," she breathes in horror, suddenly fully aware of who and what is standing in front of her. Who and what she slept with and loved.

"NO!"

This word is a harsh snarl, and Bishamonten is every inch an angry deity as he goes on, "Not this time, and never again, don't you see? I said he was with her, and I meant it! They're in _love,_ Shashi! Two people betrayed and with their feelings trampled on, they turned to each other because they understood!"

"Wait, are you saying –?"

"_He _is engaged or married to Kisshouten, not me! When everything I did in Tenkai, every barbaric order I followed, was so she would be safe! She met Tenou first here, and Fate was cruel enough to let them fall in love, while _I _fell in love with _you_," Bishamonten hisses, and Shashi frantically protests, "But don't you think we –?"

"You are _not _the woman I always wanted," he says angrily, his words like a whip, harsh and stinging. She winces at them as he goes on, "If I'd known who I was before, I would _never _have even kissed you, not when Kisshouten was in this world. If I'd gotten to her before _he _did, I would have her!"

And he turns on his heel and bluntly says, "I can't ever see you again. Go home, because we can't be together and we never should have been anyway."

"Bishamonten," she cries, unsure whether it was out of anger or grief or fear, but it doesn't matter, he doesn't come back. He doesn't even slow his steps or turn to look at her over his shoulder, just keeps walking with a snarled, "No. NO, Shashi! Just go _away_."

She can do nothing in response to that save whirl and run, clattering off the bridge and pounding the asphalt, racing towards her car with tears in her eyes and her heart thudding fast. She trips, goes down with a skinned knee and scraped hands, but she just gets up and runs some more. She doesn't think, she doesn't _want _to think. She doesn't want to feel either, but that's something she can't help. But like Kendappa, she forces herself to be mindful of her surroundings after such a jarring experience… and again like Kendappa, it all crashes into her when she shuts her back door.

The dreams were real. She's a reincarnated queen. Tenou is here. She loved her Tenkai enemy in Tokyo, and now he's made it clear that they're over, forever. That's five jarring, life-changing things in less than half an hour, and even one would have made her need to sit down.

And she is _incensed_. Both at him, and at herself. For gods' sakes, she was with_ Bishamonten_, in all ways you can be with someone. BISHAMONTEN! The sneaky, arrogant Taishakuten toady, the tool who would have severed her head from her body with a smile if he'd thought she was a real threat to his boss, or himself. That man was her opponent, for very good reasons.

"_Bishamonten, Bishamonten, emperor's dog/ He watches what you're doing and he puts it in a log/ Bitchamonten, Bitchamonten, they say he'd kill his mom/ If Taishakuten told him to, with perfect aplomb…"_

The little commoner ditty, sung when men were drunk and feeling brave or children were being reckless, runs through her head, and it was true. All he ever did was carry out Taishakuten's orders, for a reason she now knows was ultimately futile – well, maybe not, maybe he lived and Kisshouten lived, and they threw themselves into each other's arms with a dramatic, "I shall never be apart from you again!"

Well. Now they are. Not that it _matters _anymore, not that Shashi cares what Kisshouten does, and it's not like she herself and Bishamonten were meant to be and he broke it off. No, not like that, almost the complete opposite really, she thinks furiously as she throws a vase at the wall.

It smashes with a lovely shattering noise, but that's not enough. So she grabs a photograph of her dead mother here, and hurls that at a different, farther wall because rage must be dealt with somehow, and she deals with it by lashing out. It's how she is, there and here, Queen and Kougou Shashi: when she feels bad, others have to feel bad too, and if they're not around objects will make an adequate substitute. Goodbye to another framed photograph, and a candle holder too, and this room is starting to look like a troop of vandals broke in for giggles.

And then… her eye falls on something _he _gave her, an exquisite, tiny porcelain figure of a noblewoman in kimono, her bangs the same and a serene little smile on her painted, miniscule lips. It was expensive, she knows that even though he never said anything to that effect, just smiled and told her, "You dream of being a noble lady, so I immediately thought of you when I saw this."

She grabs and stares at it, suddenly realizing that she's destroying treasures she can never repair. That vase was her favorite and an heirloom, her mother's photograph was cherished, the photo of a mountain was one she took herself, and the candle holder was a gift from her father. Gone, all of them ruined now, and she now feels guilty for her actions. And the porcelain lady is beautiful, possibly antique and even if not, a masterpiece of sculpture and detail painting that would be worth a lot of money if she were to sell it.

She gazes at it with her lips trembling… and hurls it to the floor. It symbolizes that man, that doomed love, and she grinds her heel upon it with her teeth gritted and tears in her eyes. So she demolishes it, half of her wanting to wail a lament and the other half filled with vicious, vindictive anger.

And then she turns on that heel and runs again, crying hard now and wanting this pain to just _stop_. No more Shashi and Bishamonten, no more lover, nothing but her alone due to what he did. And had she known who he was, who she was, she would never have expected any different.

"_Bitchamonten, Bitchamonten, they say he'd kill his mom…"_

_Yes. And he killed my heart too._

_._

Bishamonten does not throw things at walls. No, Bishamonten slams doors and bellows words he'd turn red at saying otherwise, scaring Shizuka as he storms in like a tornado. Rage, fury, anger, call it what you will… he's hurting, and he needs an outlet. He stomps down the hallway and pounds his fist on the study wall, making Shizuka book it upstairs to escape. He doesn't even notice, memories and visions filling his mind's eye and making the pain worse.

_Kisshouten_. A beautiful young princess, smiling shyly at him as she passed by in a procession. A terrified, grief-stricken new wife, shrinking from him as they crossed the threshold of the bedchamber. A mature woman turning her back on him and walking out of the room. A crying, desperate would-be lover holding him tightly, as battle raged behind her. And then an imaginary scene that very well might be real: a nude pianist in bed with Tenou, giggling as his hands rove over body parts that _Bishamonten _should be touching.

And _Shashi_. A seductive queen tempting him in a hallway, knowing full well what she was doing. A skeptical and nervous new patient, who nevertheless smiled. A nude, penetrated bombshell on his couch, begging him to go as hard and as fast as he could. A robe-clad lover giggling as she toasted him with her tea, her cheeks blushing and her eyes sparkling. A contented girlfriend leaning her head against his shoulder in a movie theater, caring more about the companionship than the film. And a horrified reincarnated goddess staring at a ghost from the past.

_I never should have done that, any of it. I should have refused to treat her, I should have resisted the idiotic attraction, and I couldn't have done so, I should have cut off all contact after our sex on the couch, _he berates himself as he stomps upstairs, deliberately making as much noise as he can.

Shizuka looks at him with scared, wide eyes, so he sighs and stops the violent motions and loud noises, telling her softly, "I'm sorry, Shizuka. I'm upset, but I didn't mean to scare you. Here –" he opens his bedroom door, "– why don't you come in and I'll pet you?"

She prances in with her tail up and her head high, because surely this is her due. Both of them walk over to the neatly made double bed, the one he at first tried to keep her off of then came to enjoy having her sleep by his feet on. She hops up, and just to twist the knife deeper, she settles into the middle of the bed, like she's waiting for Shashi to occupy the other side. She kneads the blanket as he stands frozen, a lump in his throat, then she settles down, purring.

And suddenly he's furious again.

"She's not coming back!" he snarls, making Shizuka's head jerk up, her eyes wide. "She won't _ever _come back!" he continues in a yell, grabbing the cat bruisingly hard to forcibly move her.

Shizuka yowls, her arthritis aggravated by the rough treatment, and writhes in his hands, a sharp-nailed paw slashing at him to make him put her down. She spits in her confused anger, because why is her man suddenly hurting her?! Why does he yell at her for what he used to praise her for?

"Augh!"

The sudden red lines that open on his skin bring him back to his senses, and he puts her down as quickly as he can. She hurtles out of the room, her ears back and her tail low and twitching, as Bishamonten winces and brings his bloodied left hand instinctively to his mouth to ease the pain. Poor cat, he must have really caused her agony to turn her from purring to furious so quickly.

"I'm sorry, Shizuka!" he calls after her, because even though she can't understand him he has to apologize. He expects nothing but the sound of her galloping away, growling to herself, and that's exactly what he gets.

And his anger begins to drain away, leaving a cold, distraught grief. Anger does nothing save make things worse, in this situation at least. He changes into his pajamas with his jaw clenched tight and his lips trembling, but when he finally gets into bed, it's all too much. Far too much! Agony, worse than when Yasha stabbed him in Tenkai, much worse. Because with this pain, it will just go on, not end when his body can't function anymore.

_I. Will. Not. Break, _he vows, kneeling on the bed with his teeth gritted and his nails digging into his face, tears coming from his squeezed-shut eyes. _I won't. I can't. I mustn't, no matter how much it hurts and how easy it would be to just get a knife, fill the bathtub, slash my wrists, and have it all fade away. I won't do it, I won't. I'm not going to give in!_

He cries, he sobs, he wails even, the last one something he hasn't done since he was a child, both here and in Tenkai. But elegance, classiness, and manliness no longer matter, not in the face of this loss. His beloved is gone from him, alive but out of his reach, and while he knows he did what she wanted, it was so very different than what _he _wanted. Again he did something for Kisshouten contrary to his desires, and again, suffering. Is this punishment, then, for treating her as he did in Tenkai, for so happily following Taishakuten's brutal orders?

Yes. And yet his suffering is much less than the combined suffering of the many people he hurt. They would be pleased by this, to see him crying himself to sleep, finally slipping into grief-stricken dreams and waking up more times than he can count. By the time it's morning, he's barely slept three hours total, and it shows.

But he drags himself from his bed and makes himself eat breakfast, and the only light in this morning is Shizuka, who has forgiven him for grabbing her like that. After she finishes eating, she sits at his feet and rubs her head against his shin, trying to say in Cat, "Cheer up, man! It can't be so bad, whatever it is."

But how could a cat comprehend romantic love and loss? It's like asking her to comprehend math problems. Oh, she does know love and loss, but those are familial, not romantic.

As the day goes on, he realizes something: the callousness is back. He's always been good at distancing himself from his patients (save one), but now he finds it hard not to roll his eyes as one whines about it being everyone else's fault that she's in a bad place. Or when another refuses to stand up to his overbearing father "Because I don't want to hurt his feelings. I love him."

_Why didn't this make itself known with Shashi? _Bishamonten grumbles in his head. _If I hadn't cared, I wouldn't be feeling so awful. If I'd looked down my nose at her and just seen her as an egomaniacal source of income, I wouldn't want to cry each time I look at that couch._

Finally it's his lunch break, but he's not very hungry. He stares at the bento he brought from home with a glum expression on his face, then makes himself take a bite because it's important to eat. It doesn't taste as good, like his senses are dulled, and he recognizes this for the sign of grief it is. And he has to wonder if acceptance will ever truly come, or if he'll double back to the earlier stages as people sometimes do.

He can't finish his bento, he can only eat half. He puts it back into his office refrigerator with a sullen sigh, then trudges back to his desk and collapses back into his chair. And by now, he's starting to fully realize that Kisshouten is gone, and his other woman is taking up more and more of his mental time.

Shashi… two-faced, in the bad way and in the unknowing way. In Tenkai, she was a brilliant actress who could turn on the charm, smile at Taishakuten's face and plot behind his back, he's even more certain of it now than he was back then. And here, something different: a woman fumbling around in the dark trying to find out why she kept seeing things she shouldn't've been seeing, someone who fell in love with somebody she never should have.

She tore a maid's eyes out as a queen. She gave him butterfly kisses as a realtor. She conceived a son for power as a scheming priestess, she gave her son up because she couldn't provide for him as a woman abandoned. She was Bishamonten's only sexual partner in three hundred lonely years, a method of relief then, and his insatiable, comforting, emotionally-connected _lover _now. And yet, there are parts of her that haven't changed, never will change. Her intelligence, strength of character, jaded eye and tendency to look out for Number One, strong sexuality… all of these are fundamental parts of Shashi.

_And her selfishness, _his mind hisses, before he can go farther down this melancholy and longing path. _Her dislike of people who aren't fortunate enough to have her quick wit and ability to think on her feet. Her vain manner, always looking at her own reflection. Her materialism! If I'd been a beggar on the street, she would have turned her nose up at me and passed by, not been attracted to me and fallen in –_

"Stop," he whispers aloud in an almost agonized tone, clenching his hair in his hands and gritting his teeth. This does him no good. It was a mistake! It was a cruel joke of Fate, making him think he and Shashi were meant to be when he could have been searching for Kisshouten all along.

_But Kisshouten's gone now, _part of him pleads. _What if I just get back together with Shashi, and learn to live without Kisshouten? Because I loved Shashi, I really did._

"I can't!" he cries aloud into the silence, slamming his fists upon his desk. He rants to his diploma, "I can't love her, because she doesn't love _me!_ She hates me now, and why wouldn't she? She knows what we are and I told her to go away, plus she's Shashi, she holds on to her anger and lets it consume her. I should probably fear for my l-life," he chokes, burying his face in his hands again.

That hurts, the idea that Shashi might make him pay. No one wants a lover to have their view of you turn to hatred, even if you did break up with them. He just sits there for a while, fighting off sobs and doing some deep breathing, trying desperately to distract himself. Finally he's calmed down enough to sigh, wipe those stupid tears from his eyes, and focus on preparing for his next patient. But it's still burning in his chest, that grief.

.

Shashi took today off from work, and it's better for everyone involved that she did. If she'd been at work, a tiny thing would have set her off, and she'd have a blowup or start crying, or both. She had her blowup last night and she's certainly cried enough, but doing it in public would have been ten times worse. She's currently sitting at her kitchen table, two hours after Bishamonten's dismal lunch break, and her appetite went the same way as his. She put lunch off, but finally made herself have something simple and finish it all, even if she was sick of the taste.

And everything she does, she thinks of Tenou. Does Tenou sleep in, or is he an early riser? What does he eat for breakfast? Does he like ramen for lunch? What's his email address? What books does he read? And most importantly… should she contact him and upend his life?

_I could do it right this time, _she thinks as she stares out the window. _I could really love him like he deserves to be loved, not like before where I only loved him because he was my power bid, and his sweetness won me over despite myself. I could be a real mother, not someone who handed him off to nursemaids when his wailing became too much, and coddled him mostly to make him love me so I'd never be deposed. I could forget Bishamonten if I have Tenou again, and focus all my energy on him to bury Bishamonten for good._

All she has to do is find him. And to accomplish that, all it would take is contacting the adoption agency, she can easily get that information online. She'll tell them she wants to locate her son, they'll set up an appointment where she'll probably have to bring ID to prove who she is, and then they'll tell her who adopted him. She can call the parents, convince them that she isn't trying to take him away but wants a relationship, and surely they'll be happy to let her have that.

What is Tenou's life like? Is he in school to be a doctor? Is he in school to be a teacher? Is he in school to be a historian? She's dead certain that he's attending college, because he always was so studious and he loved learning. Well, she does know one thing, that he has a fiancée or wife. Kisshouten, of all people.

That baffles her. Tenou was hopelessly in love with Kendappa, wasn't he? At the expense of anyone else, from Tamara to any number of willing servant girls who would have happily played Kendappa substitute in bed. Then again, this is a new world, and Shashi knows better than anyone that new worlds mean different people to focus on. And she's not even sure if her son remembers Tenkai, after all. Bishamonten didn't say he did, he just said he was "betrayed with his feelings trampled on," which could just mean Kendappa rejecting his proposal as Jikokuten.

She sighs and thunks her head on the table. So if she shows up out of the blue at Tenou's door, what if he doesn't recognize her? What if he decides he's angry at her for giving him away? What if he wants nothing to do with her, even if he _does _realize what happened in a different world? That would kill her. It would destroy her soul, she realizes with a sudden upwelling of tears, to lose her son for good, right on the heels of losing a man she never should have loved in the first place.

Bishamonten… an icy enemy turned method of relief for one night in Tenkai, a dashing psychologist turned passionate lover here in Tokyo. A source of happiness and soft romance, a maestro of pleasure and insights into the human mind, and all along an unsuspecting fool who never realized it was wrong.

And when he did, he dropped her like a hot stone. He lashed out and stoked the fires of confused regret, and severed the two of them so abruptly her head nearly reeled. She can understand the need to end what never should have begun, but damn it all, he didn't have to do it so brutally. And that stings, both the sudden rejection and the knowledge of their bond being a mistake all along.

But… ah… his touch on her body, his hands tangled in her hair… His mouth on hers, on her breasts, on her hands, on her thighs, on her cheek, on her sex… His weight upon her, _him _inside her, his voice whispering, "Come for me." _That… _all of that felt right. All of that felt damn good, and she can't bring herself to be sorry for sleeping with him, over and over and over, both here and now and back then. Ironic: she has no qualms about the sex, just the love.

And she's suddenly furious that there _was _love, both with that fucker Taishakuten before he abandoned her for _Lord Ashura,_ and with Bishamonten, shrink with a stupid goatee. Tenkai had no love! Tenkai had only conniving, a coldhearted calculation of "He has what I want, I'll get it through my body."

Well, no, to be fair, Tenkai had a mother's love, and a sister's love before the conniving set in. And love for her own mother, before Shashi started to view her as a stupid whore who did it for pleasure, not power.

_I'm not incapable of love, _she thinks dourly. _But I deliberately avoided it, like I should have done here. If my eighteen-year-old Tenkai self could see me now, torn apart because of Lord General Bishamonten of the Northland, she would sneer at me and call me an idiot._

She would've killed him in a heartbeat, and in fact he would have been the first to go, because why take out a lesser obstacle in the Four Gods before the big boss? He would've known something was wrong and been wary, probably killed her himself for Taishakuten. Because he was always Taishakuten's dog, for over three hundred years. She watched him look up at Kisshouten that day she died with an expression of agonized regret, and she _knew _he was going to turn away and order the rest of the Four Gods to move out, to defend the god-king. In the end, he chose his master.

She gets up violently, to blot out those thoughts of him, and wanders upstairs. But it doesn't work, and the more she tries to avoid thinking of him, the more she actually does. He was different here, dammit, and she was different, and she can't stop the wish that they were different in Tenkai too. Then she growls, literally beating her head against the hallway wall, but it does no good.

His smile. His voice. His touch. His mind, the way he helped her, his gallant little gestures, the way he'd explain complicated things in a way that made sense. And sex, sex, sex, all the time and in so many fun positions. They'd research to find fun ones, try them out, and while sometimes it didn't work, other times it did and it was explosive. Just remembering it turns her on, and she stumbles into her bedroom with tears in her eyes and arousal in her body.

So she rips her clothes off, frustrated and furious and crying, sexually excited and unable to make it go away. So fine, she thinks as she hurls herself down and moves her hands into positions _he _used to love watching, she'll take care of it herself, because no one else can see. No one else can care, no one else can gasp and ask, "With Bishamonten? Are you joking?" No one can take _this _away from her, turn his back and say, "I can't ever see you again." No one can laugh at her for being a fool or sneer, "What a slut you are."

So her hands can be her substitute for his body. She can imagine him doing whatever she wants, and it doesn't have to stay the same. He can be going down on her one moment and fucking her the next, because he's not here and it's all about her now!

She gasps as her fingers hit home, tears in her eyes and unable to stop. It feels good, and she's been feeling only pain for almost twenty hours, even as she slept. A release of tension… that's what this is. Except this time, she won't be wary for a sudden movement towards her throat, or him using her for his pleasure at her expense. This time, he won't get up and come back, then leave when she's asleep and never mention it again, because it's only her, Shashi, no one with her but her memories.

"Bi…sha…monten…"

She pants his name, one hand on a breast and the other busy between her legs, bucking her hips against it and still crying. Dammit, why won't those stupid tears just go away?

This is a mistake, part of her soul whispers. Remembering what it was like when he was with her, when he loved her – stupid, because the more she thinks of him, the harder it will be to create those new neuron pathways that say, "We don't need him, and we can forget him." She wouldn't down a bottle of alcohol if she were trying to beat a dependency on it, then expect herself to be able to quit easily.

But damn it all, she needs this! Thinking of a random man, or even a random couple, won't do it for her, not now. No, she needs the memory of _Bishamonten_, and she'll deal with the consequences later. She moans aloud, writhing under her own ministrations, pretending that he's here with her and just as aroused as she is. She pictures his body, almost feels it against her, wants everything that turned her on and made her climax.

His hands… strong but capable of a feather-light touch on her skin. They'd skim the length of her legs, part them, dip into her core and tease her entire sex, and pluck at nipples hard as bullets.

His mouth… avid, exquisite, soft sometimes and demanding at others. He'd kiss her so skillfully she'd feel like she was floating, he'd pay reverent attention to her breasts, he'd lick and suck and tease and bring her to orgasm when he put that mouth between her legs.

His sex… hard and thick, long, perfectly formed and fitting inside her so well she marveled at it. Almost too big, but just shy of too much, and she'd lock her legs around him, or push back against him, or grind herself down onto him as she came so hard she forgot everything else. And she'd eagerly take him in her mouth and love the taste, stroke him, and it was always so arousing, no matter what they did. And he'd tell her just what he felt, in that voice she can still hear, panting, _"I love you…"_

"Bisha…monten!" she pants back, even as she knows he cannot hear her and will _never _say that to her again.

It's pleasurable, what she's doing to herself, how can it not be? No one knows her body as well as she does, after all. But it's not the same, because the social aspect of being with another person, completely exposed and entwined, is missing. And her fingers don't feel like _he_ did, they can't reach nearly as deep as his shaft could. And he knew her body very well too.

Oh yes, he knew almost all of her. And his memory for what she liked, where to touch to make her scream happily, was phenomenal. She knew what he liked too, having applied herself to learning him with enthusiasm. It paid off in spades, because they got to the point of mutual climaxes nearly every time, and it was _glorious_, something to never forget, ever.

_Fuck me harder. Lick me deeper. Suck my breasts. Make me come! _she orders her memories, and it builds quickly. Almost there, almost…

And then, her mind throws the exact thing he said to her that first time into her memory, and it's too much stimulation _not _to come.

"BISHAMONTEEEN!"

Her scream is loud even to her own ears, probably carrying outside but she can't care, it feels too powerful, and for a minute she swears he's here with her and it was all just a horrible dream. Her eyes shut tight and all her attention focused on her erogenous zones, she wouldn't have noticed if her house was on fire. Her channel squeezes her fingers, rhythmic and wet, trying to coax a manhood that isn't there into a climax of its own, and right now everything is all right for just these seconds.

But then her orgasm starts to weaken, and the knowledge that he's _not _here crashes back into her head, damping down the fires of pleasure much faster than it should. She feels cheated, even though she certainly came, and that sorrow and fear is back again, with a vengeance. No… he's not here. His body, his soul, all of him is out of her reach, barred behind the door he shut in her face.

_He'll never make me come again… and he probably wishes he never said that to me._

Panting and weak, she holds her hand up and looks at it. Wetness, so much, more than there used to be when she did this while thinking of Taishakuten. Pathetic and strange, that her forty-two-year-old body produces more natural lubricant than her twenty-year-old one.

She wipes it on the bedclothes, disgusted. The tension's gone, but the shame is back. Not for doing this (because what woman doesn't do this?) but at what she thought of while she did it. It almost made it worse, remembering what he did with and to her, and how he would groan out her name, kissing her after he finished. Because it _wasn't _just sex, he _did _love her, and he doesn't anymore, for very good reasons.

And she still loves him, she can't deny it. As foolish, as foolhardy as it is, she wants to call him and plead, "If you can't have Kisshouten, can't you be with me instead? I promise I'll do whatever I can to make you forget her! Come back to me, and I swear I'll make you happy. I'll do anything you want! I'll quit my job and be a housewife, I'll let you do painful and disgusting things to my body, and I'll tell you every day just what you mean to me. I _love _you, I love you so much I'd die if it would save your life, and Bishamonten, that's never happened to me before."

This is why, she thinks with a muffled sob, that she never romantically loved anyone in Tenkai… because romantic love can rip your heart out and topple you faster and more completely than a war can. It's a demon, garbed in an angel's form: you think it's your friend, and then it turns on you.

Part of her doesn't _want _to love him! Part of her wants to go back to seeing him as an obstacle, or even a platonic friend, or – or a monster who doesn't deserve her feelings. But she can't hate him, and this lack of hate, more than anything else, makes her realize that she's not Queen Shashi anymore.

She's just Shashi, just a realtor whose ex-husband left her, who gave her son up for adoption, who likes cats and knows what it's like to work for a living, and how it feels to have to kowtow to somebody more powerful. And has to go to the grocery store like everybody else, and budget her money, and vacuum the downstairs carpet. And put gas in her tank, and get stuck in traffic, and deal with idiots on a daily basis.

Normal. Just an everyday forty-something woman in Tokyo, Japan. The same as any other forty-something woman in Tokyo, Japan, except she's willing to bet that most of them aren't lying post-orgasmic and crying in their lonely beds right now, having been dumped by a man they honestly thought would have married them someday.

She turns onto her belly, burying her face in her pillow and sniffling, distraught like never before. God… or gods, or Fate, or whatever the hell threw them together and let him break them apart, it's worse than with Taishakuten. Because she was so _angry _at Taishakuten, and while she's also angry at Bishamonten, mostly she's filled with despair.

_And he's probably sitting in his office right now, holding that laptop and making a note about some idiot's asinine problems, angry at himself for how he loved me and resolving to buy a new couch so he won't have to remember. He's probably got his hair back in a low ponytail and stubble on his face, so he can try to go back to the way he was. And when __he__ gets himself off, it's to thoughts of Kissh–_

A sudden, jarring "Ding-dong! Ding-dong!" startles her: someone's at her door. They're ringing her doorbell hard, constantly, and her immediate hope is that Bishamonten's back. But no, he has a key, and he would never ring a doorbell more than twice, and certainly not all at once like that.

_Go away, _she growls in her mind, grabbing her pillow and putting it over her head. But they don't, and soon her landline starts ringing.

She lets it go to message, and gapes as a cheerful male voice says, "Hi Ms. Kougou, I won't go away until you talk to me! I'm Karasu Kujaku, you know, the insurance adjuster for your mortgage? You remember, we set up this in-home meeting a week ago, and you assured me you'd be home. And I peeked in your garage window and saw your car was there…"

She wants to grab the phone, open the window, and bullseye this pushy annoyance with it. What kind of lunatic doesn't just go away when no one answers the door?! How dare he be so appallingly rude!

"…I know you hear the phone," he says almost happily. "Ooh, I bet you're gonna turn it off, huh?"

She stops, frozen in the act of reaching for that button. Does this man make a habit of doing this, and thus knows the probable reaction? That has to be it.

"Shashi," his voice is suddenly serious, "it's important. Because the General of the Northland is just as shattered inside as you are, and the prince is even now wondering if you're in this world too. Please. Talk to me, and I'll explain it all."

Now she's both stunned and frightened. Who is this Karasu Kujaku, and how does he know what she's thinking? But he says he has answers, so she turns the phone on and tells him with no preamble, "Just hold on a minute, I'll be down soon."

She quickly changes her underwear, gets dressed again, washes her hands, and prays that he won't pick up on the distinctive scent of aroused human female. Then again, even if he does, there's nothing she can do about it, save rip his eyes out if he tries to sexually assault her. She'll do it, too, and then she'll get a kitchen knife and finish the job. She's not scared of this guy, at least not sexually.

She runs over to the door, unlocks it, and yanks it open, to see Kujaku smiling at her knowingly. His expression sets her teeth on edge, but she fights it down and steps back with a polite, "Please come in, Mr. Karasu."

"Thanks, Queen Shashi. I gotta say, I like the loose hair much better than those weird triple twist thingies you had on that final day," he chuckles, and she barely makes it to her chair before she collapses in surprise. This man is obviously something special, something that knows an awful lot if not everything, and that's a scary thought.

"So," Kujaku chats as he sits across from her, "let me lay it all on the line. You were reincarnated here in Tokyo for a very important reason, similar to why a lot of other people, fourteen of us to be precise, were reincarnated too. We were all meant to reunite with one person, so can you guess why you were sent here and not to Hell?"

"For Bishamonten?" she asks hopefully, but he shakes his head and says simply, "You're here for Tenou. Tenou was one of the few people who was completely good by the end, and the Bhagavaana knew he might not be with Kendappa. But he loved you so much, and he had to watch you die. So they hedged their bets with him."

"Oh," she mutters, feeling let down. She was really hoping that she's here for _Bishamonten_, for the two of them to learn a valuable lesson and grow old together. So she sighs, "And I suppose Bishamonten is here for Kisshouten, then. So why did Fate let _us _fall in love, and Tenou and Kisshouten too?"

Kujaku says quietly, "You were born again to remember and be there for your son. Bishamonten was born again to remember and be _with_ Kisshouten. But there's this little thing called 'free will.' And that's the thing about reincarnation: you get two lives. What happens here and now is just as real as what happened back then."

Shashi's eyes fill with tears as Kujaku continues, "You see, Tenou was never _meant _to be put up for adoption. Kisshouten was _meant _to see Bishamonten again and fall back in love with him. But now… now, with your son no longer your son and his beloved someone else's beloved, what is there for either of you but each other?"

He looks her dead in the eye and stresses, "Here, in Tokyo, you're in love with him, and that's just as valid as anything back in Tenkai. If you go to him, you'll both be so much better off. Otherwise you'll both live your lives sad and with no one who really understands you, and check into the Land of the Dead years later for an eternity of loneliness.

"So you have a choice," he tells her solemnly. "Tenou, which means you have no lover, but that bond a mother has with her child. Or Bishamonten, which means you have a lover but let that child go. You already know you can't have both, because if Kisshouten sees him again things will get ugly. Tenou won't leave her, and you'll always be wondering if Bishamonten's still pining when he sees her. But if you stay with him, you'll have given your son up for good."

Kujaku gives her a tiny smile then, and murmurs, "I know what _I'd _do, but free will means you make your decision on your own. I won't nudge you in either direction, because it has to be a free choice of yours. And Tenou's or Bishamonten's."

"He might not take me back," she whispers, trying to cover all possibilities. "If he doesn't? What do I do then?"

"Well," Kujaku suggests, "then one might think your choice has been made for you, you know. But if he does… then that choice is irreversible."

She is silent for a long time, then she tells him honestly, "I have to think. I can't make such a big decision on the spur of the moment."

"Of course not," he cheerfully agrees, then turns and heads to the door with an airy, "I've done my part, the rest is up to you. Take as long as you like! Neither of them are going anywhere, and they're not going to be hit by buses either," he snickers, like death by public transportation is a funny thing instead of a tragic thing.

"Who are you?" she asks him urgently, catching hold of his sleeve before he clears the door. "Who were you back then, and how do you know everything? Were you a – a stargazer of some sort, or one of the Six Stars, or a demon with those purple eyes? Or am I completely off the mark on all of those?" she sighs in rueful confusion, and reluctantly lets him go with a frown on her face.

"I was many things," he smirks as he turns back. "A stargazer? Yes, Sonsei's son. One of the Six Stars? No, but the one who could manipulate them. A demon? Technically no, though I was born of incest and had black wings in addition to these purple eyes. I was Tentei's son as well," he confirms as she gasps in surprise.

She thinks for a moment, then gives him a weird look and queries, "So how did you end up being the man with all the answers here? How do you know what Fate intended? I get the sense that a lot happened after Ashura killed me," she mutters, folding her arms and once again wishing she succeeded in stabbing the brat.

"Let no one ever say that Shashi is stupid," Kujaku replies almost gaily, and pats her on the head. As she glares at this patronizing gesture, he reveals, "A lot of stuff _did _happen after that. Turns out you would've died anyway, because Ashura was destined to awaken, and the seal on your forehead could only come off if you were dead. And do you know who _really _set the first rebellion in motion, and who was keeping a promise?"

"No," she snaps impatiently. "If I did, I wouldn't be asking you, now would I?"

"So true. Okay, here it is… Lord Ashura was responsible for it all. See, he knew thanks to Kuyou what the prophecy meant, even when she didn't, and the true meaning is this:

"Ashura would be born and destroy the world when his power was fully unsealed. The Six Stars were the final seals, beyond what you and Kahra wore. Lord Ashura made a deal with Genocide Tai that in return for being his beyotch, Taishakuten would take control and eradicate any chance of those Six Stars rebelling, since Tentei would never exterminate innocent people like that. Nope, he just banged his sister and stuck her and me in a barred cave for what he thought was the rest of our lives," Kujaku says cheerily, a jarring contrast to his horrifying words, on all counts.

The appalled Shashi demands, "So are you saying all I did for myself was what would have happened _anyway?! _You're saying Lord Ashura _knew _I was betraying him, and Taishakuten… what?"

"Yes and yes. As for Taishakuten, I'm sorry to say he married you just to protect that seal, not in thanks for your help during the Holy War or because you were pregnant with Tenou. The man, honestly, cared for one person in the entire cosmos, and that was Lord Ashura. Now, it turns out that Lord Ashura was just so set on letting Ashura live that he was willing to do _anything_, but Taishie was obsessed with him."

Shashi just gapes for a moment, then folds her arms and mutters sarcastically, "My, Taishakuten did _such _a good job of protecting me that final day in Zenmi. The only people with me when Ashura attacked were Tenou and some handmaidens! I never stood a chance."

"But here you do," Kujaku reminds her solemnly. "Here you get to choose your own fate, not have it track you down. So Queen Shashi and Kougou Shashi, think well on that choice between Prince Tenou and General Bishamonten, between Ouji Tenou and Kita Bishamonten. It's all up to you, you've got the power! And you like having power," he finishes with a wink, and then strolls off down the sidewalk.

It's only after he gets into his car and drives away that she realizes he never told her how he knows what the Bhagavaana intended. She sighs and closes the door with a heavy thud, thinking to herself that it probably doesn't matter too much, not with the rest of it. But still, so much new information, so much of it a shock, and she's now angrier than before at Taishakuten and Lord Ashura. Hmph, and people said _she _was manipulative. She at least was never tasked with protecting the world and made it suffer horribly instead.

Oh well. They're not part of her life anymore, and if they come back, she'll tell them in no uncertain terms that she wants nothing to do with them. But for now, she has to make a decision which life to lead, which path to follow. Tenkai, with all its splendor and arrogance and Tenou, the one person she looked forward to seeing, or Tokyo, with its average life but actual love. With Bishamonten, who she can either see as an old enemy or a man who brought her more joy than ever before.

"_I love you, Mother,"_ Tenou beams in her head, hugging her as a young prince.

"_I don't __want__ you to leave," _Bishamonten whispers, holding a hand out as a psychologist.

"_And that's just as valid as anything back in Tenkai,"_ Kujaku says firmly, a mysterious man she met not half an hour ago.

She becomes aware then that she's reached a hand out in reply, her left hand. She holds it up and studies it, thinking of how it's changed. In Tenkai she had long, sharp nails to symbolize that she was so royal she didn't have to do anything for herself… but she did some things for herself anyway. Twenty-two years ago this hand bore a wedding ring, one she ripped off and sold in fit of fury and vowed to never let herself be so weak again… but she became weaker this last year, and except for the past two days, it didn't feel like weakness at all.

_So there it is. If it didn't feel like weakness, if it instead felt like love, and now the thought of never seeing him again is making me cry, and the thought of never seeing Tenou again makes me sad but not teary-eyed…_

Well, that's it then. Decision made, and now, no looking back.

.

Shizuka looks up in happy anticipation as she hears movement at the front door, and a key in the lock. Good, her man is home! Odd that he wouldn't use the back door, but still, he's early and that means affection and food sooner rather than later. So she stretches her elderly body and hops down off the couch she was lying on, just as the door swings open.

But no, not her man… the woman. The woman! She's returned, which makes the cat emit a small "Mrrt!" of greeting. Excellent, Shizuka likes the woman and missed her, and she can tell her man missed her too.

"Shizuka," Shashi greets with a grateful smile, going down to the now-purring feline's level. "Good to see you, honey."

"Meow," Shizuka replies happily, and Shashi picks her up and carries her to the couch in the study as she explains, "I'm here to plead with him to reconsider, you see. I've decided that I'm not going to let him go without a fight, and to beg, on my knees if I have to, for him to take me back. I love him, and I know he loves me, so I'm praying that will be enough," she sighs, sitting down and leaning her head against the wall.

"I've always liked cats," she abruptly changes the subject as this one purrs in adoring contentment. "They remind me of myself: sleek, aloof, sexual, independent, mean maybe, but able to sneak up on blundering prey and humans. I had a cat as a little girl, did you know that? Her name was simply Kitty, but we were friends. I wonder if he had any pets as a child in Tenkai," she muses with a faraway look in her eyes, picturing a young Bishamonten hugging a puppy so hard it squeaked. With a cherubic smile on his face – and little high pigtails, because of that updo.

"Heh," she half-sighs, half-chuckles. Oh well, it worked for him. It was exotic, and while it would certainly look out of place here it fit in Tenkai, land of super-long hair, unusual cuts, and straight men with hairstyles only a homosexual would sport now. Oh, and that dork Zouchouten's barbarian sideburns, what a loony.

For long minutes she just pets Shizuka, scratches behind her ears and under her chin, and tells her all about Tenkai, which of course the cat doesn't understand a word of. But then, right in the middle of the sentence "Lord Ashura was always so pushy in regard to sex," she hears footsteps on the back steps, and a key in the lock. She stills, her eyes wide and her breath held, and Bishamonten opens the door and steps in with a gloomy expression on his face, then glances into the study and gasps at the sight of her.

"What are you doing here?" he asks in a bare whisper, holding onto the door handle so hard his knuckles are white. "Shashi…"

She moves Shizuka gently off of her lap and stands up, more nervous than she's ever been, _ever_. They stare at each other, God of the Northland and queen, psychologist and realtor, former enemies and former lovers… a man and a woman, two desperately lonely souls. Humbled, battered, like Kujaku said with no one else who really understands them, and needy even if he can't admit it.

And she takes a deep breath and tells him, "I still love you, and I always will. Don't turn me away, because I can't let you go." By her final words tears are on her cheeks, and her voice is tremulous.

"Bishamonten," she manages, crying some more, "I know you're hurt. I know you told me we can't be together. But I also know that you still love me, and that we've both changed from what we used to be. Please… please take me back."

He lets the door handle go but does nothing else and says nothing at all, and she suddenly strides down the hallway until she's standing right in front of him. So this is it, the final gamble, and all she can do is be honest with him. All she can do is place her heart in his hands, and pray with every fiber of her being that he doesn't toss it away.

"Bishamonten," she whispers fervently, one hand coming up to hover over his cheek, "I chose you over Tenou."

He looks at her, then embraces her tightly, tears in his own eyes. She wraps her arms around him and clings to him in return, taking deep breaths and blinking tears out of her lashes, unable to say anything else right now. Here they are, _Kita _Bishamonten and _Kougou_ Shashi, no longer enemies at all.

"By all sense I should tell you to leave," he says quietly into her hair, "but there's no way I can do that. So stay with me, Shashi, and know that I'm sorry," he shakily finishes, hugging her tighter.

"I know. And so am I."

She closes her eyes and tilts her face up and to the side, he closes his eyes and tilts his face down and to the other side, and softly, gently, their lips meet. It's a slow kiss, one fraught with emotion and sweet, but suddenly it turns frantic, openmouthed and needy. It's like a desire dam broke, assisted by relief and the knowledge that this _is _real, it wasn't so much a mistake as a striking off from Fate's path to find a place that's better for them in the long run. It's love, true before and true now, and they'll be damned if they let it go again.

When they finally break the kiss, he sweeps her into his arms bridal-style, with a fervent, "I'm going to carry you upstairs, where I'll show you exactly how grateful I am that you came here. Thank you, Shashi."

"You're welcome," she brightly replies, her pump-clad feet dangling and kicking happily now and then as he strides towards the stairs. They're just really, really lucky Shizuka isn't getting underfoot right now, seriously.

"So different than the first time – in Tenkai, I mean," he sighs, opening the door and walking into his bedroom. "Wonderfully, gloriously, sublimely different, Your Majesty," he breathes happily as he lays her on the bed, and her arms immediately pull him down as well.

She can't ever recall feeling happier, not even when she was crowned queen. That was a sort of nastily triumphant, covetous and ambitious happiness, but this is a sweetly triumphant, longing and contented happiness, more than she really deserves, she'll readily admit it. But hey, who'd turn something like this down? Only an imbecile would, and she is far from an imbecile.

"How did you die?" he asks in between desperate kisses. "Or did you live?"

"Ashura," she replies shortly, panting and ripping the ponytail holder out of his hair. "That abomination killed his own mother. And you?"

"Yasha," he tells her matter-of-factly, pulling her shirt off. "But that's past now. I don't care anymore. And it no longer matters, does it? We're not gods, Taishakuten's not an emperor, and if he shows up again I'll run him over with my car for what he did to you," he mutters, meaning every word.

The sudden vision of just that makes her laugh and agree, "And I'd make sure he was really dead and thank you with a kiss. But – ahh – you… you…" She kisses him again, and then admits, "I forgot what I was going to say. Just help me get this stupid bra off."

He does, and he assists her with getting other clothes off too. She returns the favor, and behind their backs, Shizuka saunters in through the open door with her ears pricked up, curious as to what's going to happen. Oh, this mating thing, okay, she's seen that before. It's still incredibly interesting, and she hops up onto the dresser to get a closer look. Ha, usually her man scolds her for being up here, but he won't notice now, she can tell that already.

Pretty soon the humans have switched their positions, with Shashi on top of Bishamonten and Bishamonten A-Okay with that. Sometimes it's nice to lie back and let the woman do all the work, to surrender control and watch her be in charge. And she, of course, loves to be in charge, he thinks with a grin as she licks and sucks at his nipples. And then she gets an idea and raises her head to suggest something incredibly important, but first she has to kiss his neck.

"Marry me," she breathes against his throat. "I mean it. I want to marry you. Will you marry me?"

It's a bold action because by custom here, as in most other nations, the man asks for the woman's hand. Usually holding out a bribe of shiny jewelry and on bended knee, not naked with a cat perched on the dresser, eyes wide and watching the whole thing in fascination. But she sees no reason to bow to custom on this one.

He smiles harder than she'd ever seen him smile before, tangles his fingers in her hair, and tells her firmly, "I _will _marry you, Shashi. And this time, you'll have a husband who'll never leave you, I swear I won't."

Time for another passionate smooch, and whoa, it _is _possible to be happier than she was just a minute ago! Damn, if she'd known that romantic love was this heart-poundingly awesome, she would've tried it in Tenkai, for sure. But what's done is done, and she's much luckier than most people to have gotten this second chance, which turned out better than she dared to hope.

When they break apart, she raises herself on her knees above his sex, gently takes hold of it, and whispers, "Let's celebrate our engagement then," as she slowly sinks down.

"_Ohhh _yes," he breathes happily, closing his eyes and throwing his head back on the pillows. "Celebrate away, my sweet Shashi."

And so they have their little party for two, as Shizuka watches in rapt fascination. How strange, that humans can come together with the female on top of the male. That would never work for cats, but Shizuka can tell which parts of human anatomy correspond to feline anatomy. Interesting, interesting, and the woman is certainly having just as much fun as the man, another different thing. She is crying out happily, pounding herself down, saying things Shizuka cannot understand but they're certainly explicit and exciting. And "I love you!" is coming up frequently too, from both ape-things.

In fact, Bishamonten's saying it right now: "I love – oh gods, _yes_ – I love you! Ah, Shashi, you're so – yes, do it, ride me, ride me…!"

She'll happily ride him anytime he wants! Ah, it feels so good, having that hard shaft inside her again, and for him it feels exquisite being inside such a wet, warm, _tight_ channel. They fit together perfectly, better than with Taishakuten or Lord Ashura, ironically enough. Or maybe, since she loved neither of her Tenkai husbands and she does love Bishamonten, it's very apropos instead of ironic. Hey, maybe she should tell him that.

"Oh Bishamonten!" she pants happily, flushed and wet and sweating, "You feel better than Taishakuten _or _Lord Ashura! So _much _better – longer, thicker, and more arousing in every way…" she moans in her enjoyment, and that right there was probably the best thing she could have said to her fiancé right now.

"And Shashi," he groans back, "you feel better than anyone else too, in this life or that life. I'm not just saying that, my – sex – goddess…"

She wants to keep praising him and getting praise, but her orgasm is getting closer and closer, matching his. Even though it's only been three days since they last slept together, she missed it terribly and it feels even more electrifying now. It's as if every centimeter of her body is sensitive, not just her erogenous zones, and she's just a quivering, desperate mass of nerve endings and searing affection. She can feel that tight knot low in her belly, and now her climax bursts upon her, making her scream his name for the second time this evening.

"BISHAMONTEEEN!"

It pushes him into a climax of his own, an ecstatic cry escaping his lips as he pumps his seed deep, deep into her welcoming, eager body. She has tears in her eyes it's so good, and actually so does he, not that either of them notices that just yet. No, they're too busy with this mutual, moving, magnificently marvelous peak, until his ends but hers still goes on. Hey, that's fine with him, but soon she too can no longer sustain the orgasm, and collapses onto him with her eyes glazed and her mouth open.

They press their foreheads together and just breathe for a while, and suddenly she laughs. He gives her a quizzical look, and huffs, "Oh yes, we're so funny with our engagement and angsty road to getting there."

"No, not that. I just had the amusing thought that if we'd ever tried what we just did in Tenkai, the gems would crack together and completely ruin the mood," she smirks with a shrug, drawing a circle on his forehead. "Why _did _you have that thing anyway?"

"It was an Udichi tribe standard for the noble family," he mutters a bit testily, affronted that she thought his sexy amethyst was dumb. "My father had it, my mother had it, my little sister had it, and my grandmother had it, although hers was chipped from a fall and she had no easy way to change it. I'll have you know that everybody else thought I looked so very handsome and exotic with it, unlike Koumokuten with his mere tattoos."

"Mmm. Well my sexy bishounen, you certainly were handsome and exotic, I can tell you that."

.

7:27 the next morning finds Shashi stealing out of bed on tiptoe, grabbing the robe she keeps here in Bishamonten's bedroom, and sneaking downstairs with a grin on her face. What better way for him to start the morning than with breakfast in bed? She'll make a nice sweet breakfast this time, maybe waffles, waffles are starting to catch on from the West. Ooh, and she'll add an orange to have before the waffles and whipped cream, and then she can feed it to him. He'll like that, what fiancé doesn't?

She rummages around in his cupboards for the ingredients, and smiles. She finds the cookbook and the waffle recipe, and smiles some more. She makes those waffles and whistles a happy little tune, then feeds Shizuka some wet food because the cat won't shut up. A human is awake! Food is a must!

Soon the waffles are done, and Shashi's prepared the orange and some tea too. She puts the waffles on two plates, then grabs the spray can of whipped cream and draws big, solid hearts on each. Sweet. She chuckles at her cleverness, suddenly remembers the silverware and adds it to the tray, then carries it all upstairs, careful not to trip. Boy, would that ruin the mood, she thinks as she walks into the master bedroom.

Bishamonten's still asleep, sprawled on his belly now with one arm out to the side and the other bent over his head. It's funny, actually, the way he unconsciously grabs up the territory of bed space.

_You always did take up more of the bed than you should have, _she thinks fondly, remembering a palace room with perfume and muted desperation.

And all the times she'd wake up to find him over on her side, a leg or an arm thrown over her body and his chest pressed against her front or back. Maybe he craves cuddling due to the fact that he never got to engage in it with Kisshouten, but even if so, she finds it rather cute – well, if you can call the ruthless head of the Four Gods "cute." Eh, she sure can. He can call a scheming queen who tried to kill her own son cute, too.

Shashi sets the tray down, then unties her robe and slips it off as she murmurs, "Bishamonten?"

"Grglmphrzzz…"

She downright snickers at this inelegant and unprofessional sleepy noise. It feels good to laugh, after so much pain then and now. Laughter… a natural high that has no adverse effects.

_Tenou is living his own life, Taishakuten could be dead or alive, I have nothing to rule over anymore… but somehow, all that's okay. I had my shot and it ended badly, but I'd honestly rather have this jackpot consolation prize than be the Prime Minister – except maybe I should run for some sort of local office, _she thinks with an evil grin. She might very well win, too.

She reaches out a hand and brushes bright red out of her fiancé's face, coaxing, "Wake up, Dr. Kita. I made you breakfast in bed."

"ZZZ–hmm?" He opens unfocused black eyes, blinks for a moment or two, and then looks up at her. "You made breakfast?" he asks slowly, like this is a foreign occurrence and he's forgotten all the other times she's done it.

"Yes. I'm the queen of patronizing romantic gestures."

He laughs a bit, sitting up as he replies, "Ah, Your Majesty is too kind to me. Did you eat yourself?" he queries gently, running a hand through his hair and giving her one of those fond looks women melt at.

She shakes her head and replies, "Not really. I had some tea, but –"

"Then you must have some too," he informs her, stretching. "A good breakfast is an integral part of one's morning. And judging by your lack of attire, I get the distinct sense you'll be engaging in energetic activities soon. We wouldn't want you to pass out, would we?" he asks virtuously, but his pervy grin ruins that effect.

"Oh no, that would be simply _awful_," she mock-pouts, "because then I'd miss out on all the fun. Here… I'll feed it to you."

"It's decadent," he murmurs a couple minutes later as her tongue touches his fingers, his hand holding an orange wedge to her mouth. "And I still feel it's a bit, well… it's a bit undeserved, don't you think?"

She chews and swallows her bite of orange, and then answers, "Maybe. Probably. Undoubtedly, really. But then, that uncouth psycho Koumokuten had that Aguni woman on his arm when I showed them their new house with a pool, and why should _they _have a nice life when _we _don't?"

Bishamonten gapes at her, stunned. "_Aguni? _Not Parvati?" he tries to confirm, although how anyone can mistake Aguni for Parvati is beyond those with working eyes.

"Aguni, not Parvati," Shashi assures him, slightly disturbed. "Apparently they're getting married, and he got a new job in –" She stops short, her eyes wide.

"In what?" he asks curiously.

"Garuda Corporation," she continues rather faintly. "You don't think…"

Bishamonten considers, then decides, "Well, it would make sense for Lady Karura to be here too, I suppose. After all, you and I are, Kisshouten and Tenou are, Taishakuten and Lord Ashura were, and that odd know-it-all Kujaku man is lurking about. I wonder who else is out there in this new world of cars and colleges instead of horses and mystics," he muses, picking the orange slice back up.

She shrugs, takes another bite, then says with her mouth full, "It doesn't matter though. Even if Taishakuten shows back up with Lord Ashura in tow, and Zouchouten moves in next door, while Lady Kendappa and my sister Kahra open a sake bar across from your practice –"

"Oh, wouldn't _that _be lovely," he teases with exaggerated hopefulness, and she swats him lightly and continues, "We've got this second life together, and I won't give it up for the world. And yes," she titters, "I know what a cliché sentiment that is."

"Well," he reminds her in a purr, setting the tray on the floor, "clichés have a lot of truth to them, or they wouldn't be so overused. One might say they are almost a primal, shared language." He grins at her, pulling her close, and continues, "I know another primal, shared language that we both speak very well."

And so again they make love, this time with him on top of her, her legs wrapped around him and their hands clasped together. Will they be late to work, and stand some clients up? Yup, but that's small potatoes compared to this. She's his, he's hers, and yes there will always be that lingering love for Kisshouten, but as time goes by, it will get smaller and smaller. Right now, he doesn't register it, because he's with _Shashi_.

And as he comes, Bishamonten calls out Shashi's name in rapture. She echoes it with his, equally joyfully.

.

Kujaku grins, flattened against the side of the house right outside the bedroom window, and thinks, _Ah, things are getting sexy again… excellent!_

Oh, that tree right next to the house is so handy, he thinks as he crosses over to it and starts to climb down. He rather misses his wings, but hey, he's managing. And good thing Bishamonten's neighbors on this side are eighty years old, and too focused on each other to look up and wonder why a strange man was hopping onto Dr. Kita's roof.

_I'm happy for you, _Kujaku thinks as his feet touch the ground again. _The two of you truly lived a different life, and found each other despite the odds against it. Fate didn't dictate that this would happen, but every once in a while, we make our own choices and Fate goes along with them._

_You made the right decision, Queen Shashi, _he smiles as he starts to walk away. _A hard decision and a painful one, but one that brings joy despite the burden of loss. And Bishamonten… you had the strength to do the right thing for Kisshouten this time._

_Well, _he downright laughs, _in a nutshell, this was a surprise… but I love pleasant surprises._

.

.

(AN: Yes, I shot Bisshouten to hell. Please feel free to write your own reincarnation fic where Kisshouten and Bishamonten have six kids and run Shashi over with their minivan, you have that right. I'd even read it, probably laugh, and give CC! But it's all about the Bishashi here, baby.

"Udichi" is "north" in Sanskrit [oh, how original, given Bish's Japanese surname]. And I do know that right about Volume Four his gem thingy moved from the middle of his forehead to the middle of the front of his hair, thus making his hairstyle even sillier and even more physically impossible.

If you're in this fandom you probably already know what "bishounen" means, but if not, it's literally "beautiful youth/boy," used in anime fandoms for any pretty male, even if he's middle-aged yet well-preserved like Bishie. And yes, the common nickname of "bishie" for a bishounen is half the reason I like to call him that.)


	17. Black Feathers

**Chapter Sixteen: Black Feathers**

(AN: And now, a brief male/male lemon. Some of you are probably relieved about that, after sitting through so much het and that yuri scene. Others of you… sorry, I really am, but it just wouldn't be fair to let everybody else get in on and deny it to Yasha and our hero Kujaku.)

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(Tenkai)

Kujaku's hiding in the tree, silent and wide-eyed, and he's been here for two hours.

_Stupid Yasha tribe warriors… I'm a wandering player! Wandering players freely traverse the world, unworried about tribal boundaries or getting permission to go anywhere._

They don't get it, he sighs in upset frustration. And his charm, or even his "I'm hungry, let's talk over food" approach cut no ice with these people. He hates being grabbed and hauled away, and he _really _hates the suspicious, "You have purple eyes! Maybe we should kill you as a demon."

He also hates when his "Oh my god-king, what's that over there?!" ploy fails to distract all of them, and they chase him with spears. Spears… those he _despises. _So he climbed the tree as fast as he could, leaving them all to run past with those sharp spears. Good thing demons attacked then, making them forget all about poor innocent Kujaku.

So he waits in the tree. But not for the chance to escape… but because Ashura is awake now. He felt it, that psychic reverberation through the air, faint but noticeable to the child of a stargazer and a god-king. Yasha's cluelessness about social realities ensured that he brought the taboo child back to his people, instead of fleeing with it. Poor ignorant Lord Yasha, bringing in a death sentence just because it was a cute baby.

_No, "him," _Kujaku firmly reminds himself. _"It" makes Ashura sound like a foreign abomination, and that's the last thing I want. Yasha thinks he's a him, after all, because he didn't get a good look at those parts yet and he hasn't had to change a diaper. Hoo boy, is he gonna get a surprise when it all comes out._

And speaking of surprises…

"Careful not to venture too far out, or you'll breach the shield!" a baritone calls, and Kujaku looks down to see little child Ashura, clad in a homespun tunic and with his hair put up into a high ponytail, giggling and running towards him.

Kujaku leans out to look, startled that he's grown so much already – and crashes to the earth as Ashura cries, "WHOA!"

Kujaku slightly raises his head to stare at him, then sees Yasha out of the corner of his 's a handsome man, broad-shouldered and with dark brown hair longer than some women's, wearing a lighter brown tunic with black wrappings at his wrists, abs, and neck. Fair of face with midnight-blue eyes, now widened in surprise at the interloper. Tan skin, tall stature, barefoot like so many other denizens of Tenkai, and dayumn, that man has some muscles. Not to Zouchouten's extent, but still buffer than Kujaku.

So this… this is the person destined to head the Six Stars, the second of them and the one who's already set the rebellion in motion without even knowing it. Kujaku pities him, so unsuspecting, so unaware that his tribe is doomed and if Fate doesn't change, he's a dead man too. Yasha's road will be long and hard, filled with grief, and most likely ultimately futile. But there's hope, Kujaku mentally insists as the child runs over to him. If he can just make this man into a father, and make this boy into a son, then destiny may break and Tenkai may live on. And most of all, he himself will see that an unwanted child is indeed loved, and that will ease the sting of Sonsei and Tentei.

But oh man, he's dizzy. He hasn't eaten all day and most of yesterday besides, and that was a pretty jarring fall. So when the little boy asks, "Are you all right, mister? Hello?" he doesn't say something dramatic and epic and mysterious… nope, he gasps out, "I'm… starving…" and lets his head fall back down.

Ow, his forehead hit a small rock! But oh well, maybe he'll just pass out, and wake up in a sumptuous bed with hunky servant guys catering to this handsome wanderer, and a four-course meal set out all for him. He barely registers Yasha asking something and the boy replying, and then two strong hands pick him up by the shoulders and Yasha asks, "Are you hurt, sir?"

"A little bruised," Kujaku admits ruefully, rubbing his left shoulder. "Got any grub? Please, I haven't eaten for almost two days, and I'm ravenous."

"I'm hungry too!" Ashura excitedly agrees, grabbing Kujaku's hand. "Yasha, Yasha, let's all eat!"

"In a moment, Ashura. We don't even know our guest's name," Yasha chides gently, then sends a brilliant white smile Kujaku's way. Unbeknownst to Kujaku right then, Yasha hardly smiles like that for _anybody_.

Kujaku sends him as nice as smile back as he can, and as they start to meander back to the huts, he says in a cheerful tone, "My name's Kujaku, Lord Yasha and Ashura. I'm a wandering player! Once we eat, I can entertain you if you'd like, in thanks for the food."

As Yasha hastens to assure him that such a thing isn't necessary, Kujaku can't help but think that the guy could use a little entertainment. Everybody says the Guardian Warrior of the Northland is a stoic dude who doesn't know how to have fun – or that the only fun he has is when he's killing demons.

Pfft, whatever, surely Kujaku's "Old Biddy and Three Noisy Drunk Teenagers" routine will make Yasha laugh! Kujaku's gifted at comedy, and he's also gifted at suspense, drama, and tragedy. He picked most of it up simply from observing people in all their foibles, and he has a natural talent for acting, speeches, songs, and jokes. In fact, that was the only entertainment he and his mother had, when he would make up silly plays and stories to take her mind off –

"HEY! YOU! What're you doing with Lord Yasha?!" a familiar guard snarls, dashing up followed by three more.

"This player is my guest," Yasha says flatly. "Do not threaten my guests, men. Surely your time could be better spent cleaning up from the demon attack and helping the wounded?"

The other three nod obediently, but the first one protests, "This man trespassed on our grounds and would not tell us who –"

"What did I just say?"

That sentence carried ringing authority and annoyance, and the guards all bow and back off. Yasha graces them with a tiny nod, and Kujaku rubs it in with a pat to his shoulder and an obnoxiously awed, "_Wowww_, you're the big boss around here! I'm in good hands."

Yes he is. Soon he's polished off a huge meal and even gets to feed some to Ashura, as Yasha studies Kujaku with the gaze of someone who's not sure what to make of him. He obviously doesn't find him a threat right now, but Kujaku can tell the Guardian Warrior doesn't find him trustworthy just yet either. And when Kujaku mentions Kuyou's prediction, he sees the side of Yasha that people try to avoid seeing.

"Just who exactly are you?" Yasha asks dangerously, staring Kujaku down with stern eyes.

But Kujaku sends him a sunny grin and flaps his hands, replying, "Whoa, dude. No need to turn the blade so quickly. I'm just a simple traveler passing by. Nothing more, nothing less."

That's when Yasha lunges forwards faster than a cat, and yanks the stargazer up by his purplish locks, making him cry, "Ow ow! Watch the hair!"

"Purple eyes?" Yasha whispers, staring into them as Kujaku stares back with a smile. "I see. A child from the evil side, eh? But how did you infiltrate the village shield?! Only those of Tenkai can enter!"

_Oooh, so close Yasha, but so far, _Kujaku thinks as he replies, "That would be… a secret!" he cries happily, grabbing Ashura and shoving him into Yasha's face as the boy squeals in surprise.

And before Yasha can lay the smackdown on Kujaku, a guard bursts in to announce yet _another _demon attack. Hmmm… are the demons responding to Ashura too? The Ashuras are demonic, for all they are shaped like gods with their lifespans and powers. But whether the monsters can sense Ashura or not, Kujaku can tell that the boy is in more danger here than anywhere else. The Yasha people are frightened of him, and one of the women is bursting to tell her lord what she didn't see when she dressed Ashura.

And so Kujaku urges Yasha to take Ashura with him. He knows what he's doing here – _someone _will attack, but he also knows that Ashura will shield and defend himself against whoever that is, and it may be too late then for a bond with Yasha. So after Yasha lifts Ashura onto his shoulder, Kujaku pulls his favorite little vanishing trick when Mr. Grouchy's back is turned: teleportation, a rare skill that only Fire God Aguni of the Westland can also do at this point in time. But she, of course, cannot go nearly as far as Kujaku can.

In the blink of an eye he's perched in a tree on a hill, watching the advancing monsters. Yes indeedy, those things are big and mad. But Yasha can handle 'em! Yasha can handle any demon, except for the young one he doesn't know is a demon yet. Yet Kujaku is impressed by the taller god's paternalism, and a few other things too.

Aloud, he admits, "He's cute. In a grumpy, unobservant, gullible, uber-macho way. Although, the long hair and the way he smiled at me… I dunno," he mutters remorsefully as he slaps a hand to his forehead.

_Don't be dumb, Ku, _his sensible side warns. _This guy's destiny is to die, after all, in the space of two months at the most._

_Well, if he dies we all die! _his more reckless side shoots back._ And c'mon sensible side, I can appreciate Yasha without wanting to be his man-wife! It's all cool, and for all I know he'll say or do something that pisses me off so much I'll start to hate him. It's fine to like him a lot now. I can pop in on him as many times as I like, so there._

_._

Seventy-five years later… Kujaku is the only real friend Yasha has left.

His tribe? Dead, exterminated by Bishamonten. Gigei? Speared many times. Rasetsu? Skewered by Koumokuten. Shara? Dead by her own hand. Ryuu? Cut in two by his friend. Karura? Broken into feathers. Souma? Killed by the woman she loved. Kendappa? A monster committing suicide in penance. Kisshouten? Killed by the biggest monster of all, just for the fun of it. And Ashura… as good as dead, sleeping unmoving in his demonic cocoon.

Oh, Zouchouten is alive, but he was never really close to Yasha. And Tenou is alive, but same thing. Hanranya is alive too, but he only knew her by sight and name, they never talked. No. It's just Kujaku and Yasha now, keeping their depressing vigil. Yasha's right eye was torn out when the cocoon manifested, sharp lengths of whatever the hell that stuff is whipping around, and one of them slashed his eye. Oh well… at least it wasn't his left one, because he'd be blind on his fighting side if that were the case.

He sighs, idly rubs two fingers across the scar, and goes back to staring at Ashura, like he's been doing for three quarters of a century. After so long, you'd think he'd have learned that there will be no change, but he still hopes. It hurts every minute when those hopes are dashed, but a father's love for his child springs eternal. And at least no one ever tries to harm Ashura, at all. Only Kujaku comes regularly, Tenou comes infrequently, and Zouchouten came once but never came again. But he has no reason to, since Ashura is, after all, a stranger to him who ruined the castle he knew and was the ultimate cause of his beloved's death.

Yasha knows very well that Zouchouten resents Ashura with pretty much all he is. Tenou, strangely enough, does not resent the being who killed their mother before his eyes and wounded him. No, Tenou is a forgiving, gentle soul, someone who hesitantly asked what Ashura was like before that fateful day in Zenmi, when he was unsealed. He listened with a solemn expression, and his mouth turned down when he learned that Ashura thought he was unloved.

The prince sighed, hesitantly reached out to touch his twin's cheek, and sighed again as he said, "He _was _loved, and I think deep down he knew that. From what you tell me his regular self responded to that love, and he loved you too, adored you even."

"Yes," Yasha replied in a tear-choked voice, then was unable to say anything else. Tenou took his leave then, but not without a gentle pat to Yasha's shoulder and another sad look at Ashura.

But Tenou hasn't been here for a long time, a year at least. He's busy with his pregnant wife, and of course the affairs of state. Taishakuten cares nothing for them now; he cared in the first few years after that dark day, but now it's as if he has no reason to tend to the affairs of the throne he so brutally stole and clung to. He knows that there will be no more rebellions thanks to Tenou, and so he sits in his chambers and obsessively thinks of Lord Ashura.

Yasha still has such a hard time believing the story, but Kujaku has assured him that it's all true. Sometimes Yasha is so angry at Lord Ashura, not least for his dear friend Kuyou. Kuyou loved him, kept her promise to him, died for doing so… and he didn't care. All along, all he cared about was Ashura, and the rest of the world could go to a fiery pit of agonizing Hell. That's not what a Guardian Warrior should be! If Lord Ashura were still alive, Yasha would have killed him himself for what he did.

And something bothers Yasha about Taishakuten's end of the deal. If he only killed so many to prevent the Six Stars from rising up (and certainly enjoyed each bit of it), and so Lord Ashura's son would live and not awaken… why did he send Bishamonten to attack Yasha's tribe?! Kujaku has told him that Bishamonten ordered each and every baby killed, because "he may be the seed of evil we're looking for." Why try to kill Ashura then, and send so many warriors after him, if Lord Ashura had been so adamant that he wanted his son to live?

Kujaku doesn't know, and Yasha doesn't know. No one knows except Taishakuten, and he never comes here so Yasha can't ask him. Perhaps his mind was broken, or perhaps it was simply forgetfulness, but it still irks Yasha. He decides then, as he always does, that Taishakuten's lust for death probably overwhelmed everything else, and he just didn't care who died.

The sound of large wingbeats comes from behind him, familiar and comforting. No large carrion bird is this, no threat, but the one close friend he has left, the only other one besides Taishakuten who knows the whole truth. He turns as Kujaku alights on the stone, bearing a picnic basket and seeming a little… nervous.

Kujaku smiles at Yasha, and it's a kind, almost longing expression, the last part something the Guardian Warrior doesn't pick up on. Kujaku walks forward, and greets, "Hi there. Lunchtime! I brought you some pork roast, some cheese, and some naan, I know you love your naan."

"Yes, I do like naan. And cheese, and pork roast. Thank you," Yasha says quietly, helping Kujaku unpack the basket. Then he frowns at something he picks up, a small jar, and opens it to see that all it has inside it is oil.

"Kujaku, what is this?" he asks seriously, and Kujaku evades with, "Lunch, dingus! Pork, cheese, naan, we've been over this. Oh, and water too."

Yasha now gives him a suspicious look as he queries, "And the oil? What's that for?"

Well, it's now or never. So Kujaku takes a deep breath and replies, "Before I explain that, I'd like to point out that you're a very lonely and sad man, somebody who could use some enjoyment. And that you're my friend, my very good friend who I was so grateful escaped Zenmi with only a missing eye. And that I, um, always liked you an awful lot. An _awful _lot."

He pauses, and then weakly finishes with, "Get it?"

Yasha, perplexed and more suspicious than ever, replies with a clipped, "Yes, we're very close friends, and I like you a lot too. If not for you, my life would be empty save for the hope of Ashura waking up, and I was grateful that you escaped unscathed as well. But _what's the oil for_, Kujaku?"

Kujaku feels like rolling his eyes. Clearly, Yasha's never paid much attention to homosexual males and what they tend to do. Figures, he'll have to be so blunt it'll probably give him a bruise or something.

"Yasha," he tells him, putting a hand on his shoulder, "the oil's so we can have sex, to be very plainspoken and honest. See, a guy's body doesn't produce the natural lubricant that a gal's –"

"_Oh_," Yasha mutters, beet red. "Yes, I know that. I'm aware of what sodomy entails, yes. But Kujaku, that's a bit inappropriate, I think."

Kujaku gets a little angry as he shoots back, "Why's it so bad? I know for a fact you've checked me out before, numerous times. I know for a fact I've done the same to you. I know for a fact I'm the person you're closest to, and vice-versa. And I know for a fact I'm in love with you, and I have been ever since… I think it was when I showed up in Gandaraja, but it could've been a little after that. I certainly felt great when I melted that demon after she – oh wait, you don't know about that. Point is –"

"Kujaku…"

Yasha's voice is soft, almost anguished, and it shuts Kujaku right up because he can tell what's coming. Yasha sighs, closes his eye, and admits, "I'm not in love with you. I'm very attracted to you yes, you're completely correct there, but the thing is, I don't think I'm actually _capable _of romantic love, I never have been. And I can't afford to be distracted from Ashura, because what if we decide we don't need him to wake up when we have each other?"

That's such a _stupid _excuse, Kujaku thinks furiously, wanting to throw something at Yasha. But then his manipulative personality comes to the forefront, and he shrugs off the cloth loops he wears over his shoulders, leaving his chest completely bare. Yasha's eyes are drawn to such a thing, instinctively, and Kujaku feels a sort of vindictive pride at that one. He gets up with tempting grace, saunters over with as alluring a walk as he can, and takes hold of Yasha's chin. And Yasha does not turn his head to break the grip, just looks at him with a flushed face but a stubborn set to his mouth.

"I don't want you to stop waiting for Ashura," Kujaku tells him honestly, and in a whisper. "I'll never stop waiting for him either. And I hear that you don't love me. But at least _feel _while you wait, because you're frozen now."

Yasha thinks on that for long, long moments, weighing attraction and duty, friendship and need, sadness and emotional hunger. Finally he nods ever so slightly, and whispers, "All right. You can try to make me feel, and I'll try too."

Kujaku doesn't reply in words, just goes in for a kiss. At first it's soft and gentle, and Yasha would be content if it stayed that way, but before long Kujaku's getting desperate, using tongue and indeed sitting himself down in Yasha's lap. The taller man's arms hesitantly come up, and Kujaku can tell beyond the shadow of a doubt that Yasha's never even kissed another male before. He was pretty sure he hasn't slept with one – neither has the stargazer, if it comes to that – but Kujaku's been known to smooch hot guys every now and then, mostly to get himself out of trouble or to make them flustered.

Well, soon Yasha is flustered too, red-faced and panting, his hard sex easily felt under Kujaku. Of course, the stargazer has been grinding and bouncing around like Vahyu practicing his lap dance skills. And actually, Vahyu might be a little miffed, off in limbo, at how good Kujaku is for his first time doing this. He'd certainly be miffed that Kujaku can play around with Yasha and he couldn't!

"So who's gonna be on top?" Kujaku breathes into Yasha's ear, then licks it as he continues, "Up to you, I'll be okay with either."

"Ah – I – I'd rather be on top," Yasha manages between panted breaths, and Kujaku makes sure to tell him, "Okay, you gotta prepare me and make sure to coat yourself with oil too. And 'gentle' is the name of the game for this sort of thing."

"Gentle. Yeah. I know, I've heard."

Yasha is as gentle as is possible, but penetration still hurts. Kujaku gasps and groans and manages not to cry, gripping the cloak spread below them in his fists. For the first two minutes or so pain is all he feels, and he can tell Yasha just wants to thrust faster and harder, though he does not. And then, finally, the younger god hits that magical spot, and all of a sudden this feels _gooood_.

Kujaku lets out a small relieved noise at that, and Yasha anxiously asks, "Is it getting better for you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you're far enough in to hit the prostate. Keep doing that," Kujaku pants out, gazing up at Yasha with half-lidded, lust-filled eyes out of a flushed and sweaty face.

Yasha _likes _seeing that, it's sexy in and of itself. That's kind of weird; facial expressions don't usually turn him on. But, well, women never really turned him on at all, did they? He always had to pretend they were male, which is kind of hard to do when you're sucking on boobs or screwing a vagina. But what else could he have done? The Yasha tribe was one of those that condemned homosexuality, and that had been beaten into him from a very young age. Well, as the last Yasha, it's only fair that he can do what he was meant to do now.

"You feel wonderful," he gasps, starting to speed up. "I _like _it. Do you like it?"

"Yeah, yeah, _yeah_, now that you're doing that," Kujaku mewls, starting to buck up against Yasha. "Pain's going away now. It feels amazing, you _gotta _try this!"

_I will, _Yasha thinks before he can stop himself. _I'll try it next time. But this, now, feels far more astounding than vaginal intercourse. It's… I can't describe it._

Soon they are beasts of passion, unable to think rationally or say anything coherent. Kujaku screams his pleasure to the heavens and Yasha growls out his, slamming into him too hard but that doesn't matter too much right now. He's bent over him, Kujaku's legs and arms locked around him, those black wings flapping on the ground in his excitement. He clenches himself around his lover –

And that's it, Yasha's finished, pouring his release into his partner's eager body. Kujaku considers this new sensation, and decides that it's unusual but damn good.

The warrior pants, boneless atop him, and the seer feels a keen, desperate sense of disappointment, because _he's _not finished. Great, now he'll have to take care of it himself right in front of Yasha, which for some reason feels embarrassing, despite what just happened.

But no. Yasha comes to his senses, probably assisted by Kujaku's unconscious movements against him, pulls back, looks down, and grabs his partner. Roughly, almost nervously, he gets him there.

"YASHA!"

Okay, now there's a mess, Kujaku realizes once he's stopped gasping in pleasure. Well, too bad. He's brought cloths in the basket too for just this contingency, and the ground won't care what it's got on it. He can clean himself off, get dressed again, and no one will be the wiser. Unless, of course, somebody is watching from Zenmi Two, but nope, Zouchouten caught sight of the initial embrace and turned away with a red face.

Kujaku opens his eyes to see Yasha with his closed, his head bowed and his arms trembling as he holds himself up. With a slight frown on his face, Kujaku breathlessly reminds him, "You can lie on me, you kn– OOF!"

Yasha, concerned that he knocked the breath out of Kujaku as he collapsed onto him, shamefacedly mutters, "Sorry, Kujaku. That was a little abrupt. I… um. That was… well, it was nice," he says awkwardly, which is quite an understatement. In fact it was the best he's ever felt, but he doesn't want to admit that just yet.

"Yeah, it was _really _nice," Kujaku agrees a little dazedly, still feeling the endorphins running through his system. "I think we should try to feel nice whenever we can. Whaddya say, Yasha?" he asks hopefully, stroking the taller man's hair.

Yasha nods and agrees, "Yes, I think so," before he gives Kujaku a soft kiss. And that's that.

.

Yasha looks at his son, who sniffles as the fire burns, the night cold and moonless. A hundred years have passed since that fateful day in Zenmi, and while Ashura has come back, someone very important has left.

_Kujaku's __gone__, _Yasha thinks, fighting off tears. Ashura mustn't see him crying, it would make it even harder for him.

Kujaku, Kujaku, _Kujaku_. Kisshouten's prediction came true, that he would steal Yasha's heart away, but it was too late to change his suicide. As black feathers began to blow around, Yasha realized what that strange sensation in his chest was, exactly what Kujaku meant to him. He screamed but it did no good, and then Ashura opened his eyes, and Yasha had no choice but to tend to his son. He locked the grief away like a warrior is able to, but as Ashura slept the first night, Yasha walked thirty feet away, beat his fists upon the ground, and sobbed like he never sobbed before.

Ashura knows something is wrong, how can he not? But he is still just a child, for all he's grown to his adult form, and Yasha is able to distract him or fool him into thinking it's myriad little problems, instead of one huge, heart-rending problem. And Ashura is of course grieving too, absolutely everyone, even Shashi after she called him an abomination and screamed, "Somebody kill this child!" Good Ashura never wanted to murder her, even when she tried to kill him as a baby, he just wanted to be loved by her like Tenou was.

Suddenly Yasha jerks his head up on high alert, because he's heard movement. Fast movement, many pairs of feet, and no sooner has he leapt up and drawn the Yama Sword than a troop of soldiers bursts into the clearing. Their swords are sheathed but they were obviously looking for them, judging by the way they take up positions to block the route for running away.

"Lord Yasha," the leader says conversationally as Ashura clings to his father's arm, "your presence is requested at the Palace of the Dragon King. Surely you realize you've wandered into his lands?"

"Not on purpose," Yasha growls as his eye starts to glow red. "And I must decline your 'request,' as I have no business with the Dragon King. In fact, last I heard, he was quite angry with Ashura and me. So I will fight to keep us out of his hands."

"DON'T!" Ashura screams, sounding downright distraught. "Don't fight, don't die! I don't want to see anyone else _diiiiie!_" he wails as he buries his face in Yasha's shoulder, the picture of guilty misery.

What can Yasha do, after a plea like that? He sighs and lets his sword hang limply at his side, no matter how much he wants to fight. Instead he brings an arm up to hug Ashura, and tells the guards, "All right, we surrender. And since we do, you must treat us well."

"Most certainly, Lord Yasha," the captain agrees like Yasha's words were unnecessary, putting a hand over his heart. "Lord Ryuu would have it no other way."

"WAAAAH!" Ashura bawls at that name, flashbacks of his friend Ryuu's death playing in his head. Yasha holds him tighter, and the captain's brows quirk as he mutters, "Was it something I said?"

Soon they're in the Palace of the Dragon King, which Yasha has been in before as a teenager, and Ashura has only seen from the outside. It's a beautiful palace, much different from the Yasha village – but then, the Dragon tribe has produced Guardian Warriors for untold generations, and the Yasha tribe was so young. This palace is very fine, and Yasha watches Ashura gaze at it in awe. After all, there wasn't much time to really admire the first Zenmi.

The guards push open two huge doors emblazoned with – what else – a pair of water dragons, and the throne room is revealed, high vaulted ceilings and pools of water, fine sculpted pillars and marble floors. There are emeralds and jade everywhere, some peridot as well, and more dragon imagery, from sculptures to tapestries to paintings, even mosaics on the floor.

On the far end of the room, two men stand up from a low couch on the dais, one holding a gurgling little girl. The one wearing the armor of the Dragon King has white hair, very long and wavy, covering one limpid black eye, the other one actually reminding Yasha of that bastard Bishamonten. The one with the child wears a scaled shirt and long kilt, his hair the same length and style but bluish-black and a bit straighter, his eyes pinpointed almost like that jerk Koumokuten. Ryuu's elder cousins, Hakuryuu and Seiryuu. The men who de facto ruled the Dragon tribe during their young kinsman's absence, their grandfather being far too frail and sick to be of much use.

"My lord," the leader of the guard says, bowing, "we've brought them as you asked."

"Thank you, Bhujanga," his king murmurs. "You may go."

As the guards all bow and draw away, Ashura grabs Yasha's tunic, incredibly nervous. He's never met these people before, and given what happened to their cousin, Yasha can understand his fear. Ryuu's tales of Hakuryuu's legendary temper surface in Yasha's mind, and he has to wonder if he'll have to fight the new wielder of the Dragon Fang Sword, which he can see leaning against the couch.

Then the little girl laughs, a happy shriek that makes her father grin and bounce her a bit.

"So true, kiddo," he says proudly. "We've been remiss in our welcome, and we probably scared them, huh?"

"My niece is correct," Hakuryuu smirks. "Lord Yasha, Ashura… I am Lord Ryuu. This is my brother, Seiryuu, and _she _is Seikuya. Welcome to the Palace of the Dragon King, and please, don't be frightened. We mean you no harm, you must forgive us our manner of collecting you."

"But… don't you know who we are?" Ashura asks stupidly, since Hakuryuu greeted them by name.

"The last of the Six Stars," Hakuryuu – no, Lord Ryuu – solemnly answers. "Two men without a tribe, no one but each other. The instigators of the rebellion, some of the last survivors of the first Zenmi. And Zouchouten has recently passed away on the heels of Taishakuten, leaving only King Tenou and Queen Hanranya along with the two of you. I see by your faces that you were not aware of that," he sighs, as Yasha feels yet more sorrow.

Oh, poor Zouchouten. He was a sad man after that fateful day, yet he came to hide it well. Yasha, though, is well aware that the smile masked great pain, and now the one-eyed warrior has to ask, "What happened to him?"

"He threw himself from the lip of the chasm where Lady Karura died," Seiryuu says softly, stroking his daughter's hair. "It was like he was just waiting for Taishakuten to be gone, so he couldn't cause any more trouble. Zouchouten stayed until Tenou's coronation, and walked off from the very banquet in Zenmi Two, back down to the ruins of Zenmi. Brave man, because there's no way you could get _me _down to that haunted place, where so many people were killed."

Here it comes, Yasha thinks… the inevitable blowup. The accusation of "You were the reason my cousin died!" And what can he say in response? It's true, the young Dragon King would have been safe if he'd never gone to Zenmi. Ashura probably would've tried to hunt him down had he not stopped himself, but since he did, Ryuu would have lived, and the tragedy of the Six Stars wouldn't have been quite as massive.

So Yasha replies simply, "Yes. And you have my heartfelt apologies for your cousin Lord Ryuu's untimely death. I'm so sorry."

The current Lord Ryuu smiles suddenly and says, "I can't hate you, Lord Yasha, if that's what you were thinking. You didn't force him to go with you, you didn't kidnap him and _make _him go to Zenmi."

Seiryuu grins, Seikuya pulling his hair, and matter-of-factly adds, "He did what he wanted. We never could make Nahga listen to us when he'd made up his mind that he wasn't going to."

Lord Ryuu nods in almost indulgent remembrance, and continues, "We brought you here to offer you a place, and you're both welcome to stay as long as you like. For the rest of your lives, if you wish. With Tenou as god-king Tenkai is peaceful again, but there will always be demons, and I'd hate to see you killed in an attack."

Yasha is shocked, completely and utterly. No anger? No judgment? No battle of revenge? An offer of a _home?_ Goodness… is this ever different than what he expected, and amazingly generous to boot.

He's about to accept, but Ashura shakes his head and protests, "You can't do that, you don't know what really happened!"

He looks Lord Ryuu in the eye and confesses, "It's _my _fault your cousin's dead." He starts to cry as he continues, "_I _killed Ryuuy! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I know I –"

"No you didn't," Seiryuu interrupts in a firm tone, making Ashura stop mid-wail, golden eyes confused and still full of tears.

What does he mean, he didn't? Of course he did! He murdered poor Ryuu in cold blood! He remembers it, looking out but being unable to stop his evil self as he hewed his close friend in two, and wanting to cry and scream in grief as his other self smiled. Ryuu smiled back at him anyway, apologized for not being able to protect him, and this made Ashura want to die, that Ryuu still loved his friend even after such an action.

"I mean," Seiryuu continues matter-of-factly, "your body did yeah, but it wasn't _you. _Because you were his friend, and you never would've hurt him."

Yasha is stunned, and manages a weak, "How do you know that? Only Tenou, Taishakuten, and Zouchouten knew that. And… and Kujaku."

Lord Ryuu grins in agreement as Seiryuu smirks, "Bingo. Kujaku's been here before, and we've been to Zenmi Two, you know. Although you just stayed by your son's side, so you'd have no idea that Mr. Mysterious sat us down and told us – well, not everything, but enough."

"Was I angry at first? Yes," his brother adds with total honesty. "I called for another rebellion in the beginning, even. When I learned what happened to Nahga, I was furious and smashed a vase. Seiryuu talked me down from the rebellion idea, but I was still seething over Nahga's death until Kujaku told me the truth. And while it did take a while to work through it, I've come accept that the _other _Ashura killed him, and the other Ashura's gone now. So, this Ashura, please don't think that I hate _you_."

Silence as everyone else waits for Ashura's response. Whatever the other three expected, it was not for him to throw his arms around Lord Ryuu and bawl into his shoulder, "I _liiike youuu!_"

Yasha can't stop a smile, Seiryuu laughs happily, Seikuya giggles, and Lord Ryuu blinks in surprise, then gingerly pats Ashura's back as he grins, "I think I like you too."

.

Yasha is now one thousand, seven hundred and ninety-six years old… and he is dying. It's a cancer of the bone, one his tribe is prone to, and while it is painful he is used to pain. He handles it with grace and dignity, even though he's on his deathbed, but he thanks his lucky stars that Ashura is not part of the bloodline that would visit this upon him. And he is the last Yasha: he never took a wife, he never had children who were his by blood. So once Yasha dies, Bishamonten indeed succeeded in destroying the tribe that served him so well.

Life has been both hard and good. Good because they were treated so well here, made many new friends, and never had to explain what had happened if they didn't want to. Lord Ryuu made it clear to his people not to badger Yasha and Ashura about that horrible day, but as time went on they talked about it more. Seiryuu and Lord Ryuu know everything, more than Ashura does actually, although Ashura has learned most of what happened when he was in his coma. But of Kujaku's love… Yasha has only spoken about in one-sentence answers to the dragon brothers, never Ashura.

And of course, that's why life was hard, in addition to a few other things. Yasha never really _examined _Kujaku's death, just tried to block the pain from his mind, and so it festered and grew. He is grateful for Ashura, of course he is, but he never lets himself ponder what would have been better: this, or an alive Kujaku and a stone-still Ashura. Yasha cannot change it, Kujaku took the choice into his own hands, so it's useless to wonder, "If I had realized I loved him and told him so, would he still be here?"

He coughs, wracking gasps, and Ashura soothes him with a hand to his brow and the soft words, "Would you like some more water? Some more wine to dull the pain? I know you don't want anything to eat, you're long past that. Yasha… is there anything I can get you?"

"No. No, stay by me now, don't leave even for a second. The end is very, very close, Ashura."

"I'll never forget you," Ashura says softly, tracing his father's worn cheek. "Yasha… before you go, I want to ask you something."

"What is it?" Yasha asks, struggling to stay here. "What do you need to know, Ashura?"

"Did you ever love anyone, in the romantic sense?" Ashura asks with a desperate tone in his voice. "Gigei loved you, and you turned away. Kendappa's mother loved you, and you avoided her. You never had anyone here, not a woman or a man, and you were always so sad… Was it because there was someone when I was asleep?"

"Yes," Yasha answers quietly. "Yes. Kujaku, Ashura. And by the time I knew what it was… it was far too late. He'd plunged that staff through his heart and broken into a thousand feathers."

He never thought he would admit this to his son. At first because Ashura felt so guilty already, and then because to dwell on it would open up that wound again. But now, Ashura has grown into a wise man, a man who can take such a statement not as accusation or blame, but simply as the fact of the matter, this is what happened.

Ashura's eyes fill with tears again, and he whispers, "I thought that might have been it, Yasha. But I'd hoped you would have been happy with him those hundred years. You weren't? You never told him?"

"No," Yasha admits in a regretful sigh, death hovering ever closer. "But Ashura, I mean… he and I, there were moments of joy. Without him, I don't know what I would have done. And I think he knew. I _hope _he knew. And I want to see him again, so badly. Ashura… I love you, and it's… it's time."

He can say no more, just takes deep, steady breaths as his son takes hold of his hand, crying silently but not out of fear. No, Ashura now knows how to go on without Yasha. This is just the sadness that comes to everyone, no matter how much they know their loved one will be better off when they die, when the person they've counted on their entire life is leaving them. This is grief, and only psychopaths are immune to grief. This Ashura is no psychopath, and this Ashura has learned to work through loss.

Yasha closes his eyes for the last time, and there is black. There is silence. There is no more heartbeat in his ears, and there is that sudden knowledge that yes, he's weightless and it's all over.

Well, _this_ journey is over. Another one, he can tell as he rises, is just beginning.

.

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(AN: I am disgusted that CLAMP paired Yasha in "Tsubasa Chronicles" [and in three omakes] with the _little_ _kid_ he _adopted_. That's just… I can never condone that, especially as the child of someone who was adopted. But I went with Daddy Yasha over Pedo Yasha here, and Son Ashura over Love Interest Ashura, because I can: at the end, CLAMP never actually says they're a couple. Not to mention that Yasha often calls Ashura his child and says he raised him, and Kujaku keeps calling Ya-Ya Ashura's "daddy."

Who else read Volume Ten then went back to Volume One to make sure we weren't imagining things? After all, Tai _does _send Bish to kill Ashura, and sends the gods of the Westland after him and all the others. If he knows the Six Stars' deaths will unseal Ashura, why try to exterminate them? Why order the Four Gods to fight them to the death in Zenmi? And he and Hanranya are surprised to learn of the prophecy in the beginning, so if they knew Yasha was one of the Six Stars [Taishie even says in Volume One that he didn't realize that before], why did he slaughter his tribe and _make _him rebel? Yeah, more evidence that CLAMP didn't have the Suck-land ending in mind when they began this thing.

Also, I find it impossible for Kujaku to have given the Yama Sword to Yasha's dad or grandparent and have that be "an ancient Yasha legend,"especially given Volume One, where he gives it to his far ancestors –no mention is made of them being a very young tribe like they are in Volume Six, at all. They also unfailingly have dark hair, which they wouldn't if they were a third-or-second generation tribe cobbled together from others. Plus, Ku's said he himself did things even a demon wouldn't do, and I'm sorry, being born of incest doesn't cut it for me, since the kiddo wasn't the one who screwed his sibling at all. And he didn't kill Sonsei, she stabbed herself.

Don't believe me on any of this? Pick up the early volumes and see for yourself! And as always, a review would be greatly appreciated.)


	18. The Rain Is Warm

**Chapter Seventeen: The Rain Is Warm**

(AN: This chapter too contains a Kujaku/Yasha lemon. Oh, those guys.)

.

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(Bunkyo-ku, Tokyo, in early September 2014)

Kujaku is hungry yet again, and so he buys himself a tasty cheeseburger. The morning is crisp and bright, it's a week after he was on Bishamonten's roof listening to passionate engaged couple sex, and he can't help but congratulate himself for a job – no, _six _jobs well done.

Kumaraten and Kahra? Hitched with twins, and another little munchkin on the way! Zouchouten and Karura? A legitimate son! Souma and Kendappa? Married in Nepal! Kisshouten and Tenou? Married too, baby! Koumokuten and Aguni? It's five for five! Shashi and Bishamonten? Engaged and about to shack up! YAAAYY, go Kujaku! He's been a busy little bee, and it's all paid off. No need to thank him, he's just doing his job, ma'am. Or sir. Or ma'am and sir, or even ma'am and ma'am, in Kendappa and Souma's case.

And yet the Bhagavaana have not granted strings-free happiness, at all. Those who helped keep Tenkai under an iron fist have all suffered after the Schism of the Heavens, in this world or Tenkai. And they suffered greatly, each and every one of them. Zouchouten: living a hundred years after Karura's death, without being able to do anything to the man who killed her. Kendappa: hearing her Tokyo father kill her Tokyo mother, and locking herself into a mental ward. Aguni: molested by her father, and left for a month with no hope of ever seeing the man she loved again.

Koumokuten: having a horrendous work situation, losing Aguni for a month, and most of all having Tamara cut him out of her life. Shashi: abandoned by Taishakuten, giving her son up, and going through emotional agony when Bishamonten broke up with her. Bishamonten: losing Kisshouten to someone else, and going through equal emotional agony about Shashi at the same time.

And Taishakuten… what of the god-king who broke Tenkai's back and tortured it when it was defenseless? What of Lord Ashura, the two-faced demon who unleashed such a terror? Kujaku doesn't know, they're on their own. But he has the distinct sense that they will suffer too, probably more than all the rest put together. And Kujaku knows something that Taishakuten doesn't: Lord Ashura did not love him in return.

No. It was, in a non-monetary but still very true sense, prostitution that let Taishakuten have him. Lord Ashura wanted one thing, for his son to live, and to get that he would have rolled over for even Koumokuten if he'd thought the other man could change Fate, and had named that as his price. There were no confessions of love from Tenkai's Guardian Warrior's lips, and Taishakuten should have realized this. So Kujaku is willing to bet that the god-king will know anguish if he finds Lord Ashura, and perhaps he won't take "no" for an answer, thus leading to Lord Ashura's anguish too.

But even if they meet like Shashi and Bishamonten, and fall in love with Lord Ashura having no idea of Tenkai, even if they have a happily ever after, Kujaku's task didn't involve them. His task involved the other twelve, and hasn't he fulfilled it? Maybe not as the Bhagavaana intended, but given the suffering angle perhaps they knew. Free will or divine intervention, either way Kujaku's kept his end of the bargain.

From Kahra's desperate need for help to Koumokuten's pierced ears, knowledge simply appeared in his mind. It was disconcerting at first, but he's learned to go with the flow. It was so very useful, and he hopes it will stay. So now, having been a nanny, a waiter, a pizza delivery guy, a piano tuner, and an insurance adjuster, not to mention hanging around a fountain in a park, he wonders why the knowledge of Yasha's location hasn't come to him. Everyone else is fully aware now, so why haven't the Bhagavaana rewarded him? _Where is Yasha?_ Why can't Kujaku find him?

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he mutters under his breath as he strolls down the city street. "Stop hiding from me, my love. I'm gonna lose it if I can't find you, and it'll make you happy too, right?"

Kisshouten insists that Yasha loved him back, and Kujaku believes her. She has no reason to lie, and that knowledge kept her brother going when things got hard. Of course… Yasha has to love him again, here, with only half-memories to guide him. It was quite hard to get past the warrior's barriers before, and it'll be even more difficult now, because Kujaku will be so impatient. And Yasha does not trust easily, alas.

Kujaku heaves a gloomy sigh, idly looking at a display of books in a window. And then he chokes on the last bite of his burger, because there, right in front of him, is Blood Ocean… by a Hogosha Yasha! Kujaku doesn't believe the name is a coincidence, and he excitedly rushes into the store to grab the book. Books, after all, usually contain author information and a picture on the jacket, and Kujaku hopes with all his heart that he's right and this is _his_ Yasha.

Hmm, Blood Ocean is prominently featured in the store, and lots of copies seem to have been sold, judging by all the empty spaces. Kujaku seizes a random tome with manic movements, ignores the summary, and flips to the back to see that yes, this _is _his Yasha!

Wearing sunglasses for that movie star look, to boot, and the "About the Author" blurb reads, "Hogosha Yasha's books have sold more than 15 million copies worldwide, and he won the prestigious Akutagawa Prize in 2008 for his short story 'Hanging Lilies.' He lives in Bunkyo-ku, Tokyo, and is fond of music, ethnic foods, and children. Visit his website at hogoshayasha . jp."

Kujaku _will _be visiting the website, oh yes he will! He buys the book with a big grin on his face, indescribably thankful that Yasha lives in Bunkyo-ku. What a coincidence – or maybe not, given the way Fate likes to set you up. He's so excited he garbles his words at the checkout, and while a rude guy laughs at that behind him, Kujaku just flashes him a cheery grin and a wave, which seems to unnerve him. Ha. Mean people never know what to do when you make it clear their nastiness doesn't bother you.

Back out on the street, Kujaku whistles a merry, eager tune as he rushes back to his little, cheap, noisy, smoky apartment building. He doesn't care how bad it is, not when he used to sleep on hard ground with demons or enemy patrols prowling around – as it snowed, with freezing wind, and he hadn't eaten for days. Nope, grocery stores are a blessing from above, and if he ever runs out of cash he certainly hasn't forgotten how to shoplift!

He impatiently locks his door behind him, turns on his ancient laptop, and whiles away the time waiting for it to connect to the net by starting Blood Ocean. Yup, he can see why it's called that only five pages in… lots of heart-pounding fighting and bleeding, how_ surprising_. But it's certainly well-written and interesting; it's set in the early feudal period on the coastline of Kyushu, and the main character is a ronin who watched his family die. Hmm, is this a sign that Yasha has some inkling of Tenkai?

Kujaku sets the book down and types in the address, perusing the website when it comes up. Hmm, not much personal information, but he reads everything he can. But ha, Yasha has a Facebook page! And with this and his name, Kujaku is easily able to find where he lives: the Kishu Arashi Premium Apartments, at 2247 Otaki Street. So that's where the former stargazer goes, right now.

But how to get in, he has to wonder when he's finally reached it. There's an armed doorman. Well, it's possible that a bluff will work, because it's worked many times before, both back in Tenkai and here in Tokyo. So Kujaku saunters up and says, with a winning smile on his face, "Hi! I'm expected. I'm visiting my best friend in the whole wide world!"

The hulking doorman gives him a "Not impressed" look, and demands in a gravelly voice, "What's your friend's name?"

Kujaku smiles some more and replies so easily, "Hogosha Yasha. He's my buddy from college. Wanna hear about the time we egged the dean's window and threw toilet paper into his tree?" he offers with an incorrigible grin, already spinning a story of youthful shenanigans in his mind.

"No. You just let me call Mr. Hogosha and see if you're expected," the doorman tells him grumpily, and only Kujaku's expert poker face stops him from showing his disappointment. Darn, and here he'd hoped to go right up. Of course Yasha's not expecting him, but perhaps the name will trigger a memory and a sense of trusting curiosity?

"Mr. Hogosha?" the doorman says into the intercom. "Are you expecting a friend? A Mr…"

"Karasu Kujaku."

"A Mr. Karasu Kujaku," the doorman relays, then listens with a frown on his face as Yasha replies in an annoyed voice, "I don't know anyone by the name of Karasu Kujaku. Tell him to attend my next book signing like everybody else."

The doorman apologizes in clipped tones, "Thank you sir, sorry to bother you." Then he hangs up and needlessly tells Kujaku, "You are not expected, and you are not allowed in. Please exit the premises, or I will forcibly escort you off of them."

Kujaku thinks fast, but aside from pinching a nerve on the back of this guy's neck, there's nothing he can do. So he sighs in resignation, nods glumly, and wanders off, but not without a lot of turning back and trying to guess which fancy window is Yasha's. C'mon psychic Bhagavaana powers, where are you when he needs you the most? But they make no appearance, and as he finally turns around, he gets the distinct sense that they were only good for everybody else. As in, **"Here's a tool for your job, you don't get to use it for your personal life."** Phooey.

But then he gets a clever little idea. It could very well result in his arrest, but if it works, it's all good. He hangs around a doorway four down from Yasha's apartment, and every time three or more people walk past, he joins them, making sure to stay on the side near the street, away from the doorman. Eventually a group will go into that apartment, and if Kujaku's fast enough and unobtrusive enough, he can get inside too.

Finally he attaches himself to the quintessential group for being unnoticed: one with three noisy kids, two harried parents, and what's probably an aunt. The kids are acting out to their hearts' content, the adults are far too frazzled to notice Kujaku, and the doorman winces in unhappy anticipation when he sees them coming. He hastily opens the door for the mother, with a forcedly polite, "Hello, Mrs. Yamaguchi."

"Hi Keitaro," she distractedly replies, as Kujaku passes through the door like he has every right to do this. "TAKUMI! Don't wipe your hand on the doorman's pants!"

Kujaku chuckles to himself as he walks to the stairwell, waits for them to pass, and turns around cautiously. Okay, enough time has passed that Keitaro's hopefully facing the other way, so if Kujaku goes quickly and quietly, he can scan the directory for Mr. Hogosha Sexypants. He speed-walks back the way he came, and yup, the doorman is watching the street again. Praying that nobody else will come before he's done, Kujaku scans floor after floor, finally locating Yasha on the twenty-ninth – the second-highest. Okay, he'll _definitely _be taking the elevator.

When he strolls out on the twenty-ninth floor, Kujaku's heart is pounding. This is it! This is the moment he's been waiting for his entire life, that he's been dreaming about for so long, and as he knocks on the door of Apartment 86, he firmly reminds himself to _not _tackle Yasha while screaming, "There's my babyyyy!"

Movement behind the door! Kujaku forces down the manic grin and makes it a mere friendly smile, but big surprise, Yasha opens the door with a distinctly stern look on his face. He's dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt instead of a tunic, and his hair isn't as long as it once was. His mouth is turned down into that customary grumpy expression, and Kujaku really wishes Yasha weren't wearing sunglasses again so he could see those dark blue eyes. And then something else catches the wanderer's eye: a thin cane with a wrist strap leaning against a couch, barely visible behind Yasha.

He's _blind_.

Kujaku is stunned for a moment, because why is Yasha punished like this when others who did worse things were completely able-bodied? But… for awakening Ashura, for starting the Schism of Heaven, for doing what he thought was _right_, Yasha perhaps, in the eyes of the Bhagavaana, committed an unforgivable sin.

_But why am __I__ still okay then?! _

All of this flashes through his mind in an instant, and then Yasha says, "Hello?"

"Hello," Kujaku replies, his voice cracking with emotion. "My name's Kujaku. I've been…" He wants to say "searching for you all my life," but instead he goes with, "looking for your son, Ashura. I'm an old frie–"

"I think you have the wrong apartment," Yasha interrupts with a frown. "I don't have a son, and certainly not one named Ashura."

Kujaku is stunned again. Ashura's not here? But where else would he be? Or maybe he's not here at all. Maybe he's in the Land of the Dead, both of him, because he had no reason to be reborn. Perhaps there was no one so important taken from Ashura, and he's content to rest and wait to see his adoptive father again when Yasha dies. It's possible, very possible indeed.

So much of Yasha was bound up in Ashura, even when the boy was as good as dead. With no adopted child, what is Yasha like? Who does he talk to who understands him and makes him smile? Is there a lover, a best friend, a family he laughs with?

Kujaku finally replies, "Oh. Well, um… that's okay, I can talk to you instead," he says, as carefree and cheerful as he can when his life's goal is standing there with a perplexed look on his face. Making it up as he goes, he continues, "I'm thinking of moving in, and I wanted an insider's opinion on this building."

Yasha frowns some more and suspiciously points out, "I don't hear anyone with you, and Ms. Konoha insists on squiring all potential renters around. Who are you, and why are you here? I'm shutting the door if you can't give me an honest answer."

"I _do _want to move in," Kujaku tells him, suddenly truthful. After all, this way he can get to know Yasha again. "I'm just doing some investigating on the down-low, because, I'm sorry, who's honest about the bad points when the manager's standing right there and glaring? If you don't want to talk to me, okay," he smiles understandingly, bluffing the other man to make it more believable. "I can find somebody else."

Unfortunately, Yasha takes that as an opportunity to agree, "That might be wise." And with that he shuts the door with an emphatic slam, and Kujaku can hear him locking it.

What? No! Kujaku is tempted to beat his fists against the door and bawl, "Lemme_ iiiiin!_" but it would do no good. In fact, it would make Yasha angry, and thus make it harder for Kujaku to get him to trust him. Okay, so. Yasha is most unreceptive right now, but he might be more receptive to a friendly new neighbor who brings over cookies. Kujaku, devious little person that he is, decides to find a way to make _somebody _in this building move out. If he can just get their phone number, that's a start.

But joy of joys, someone is moving out when he contacts the building's owner, so naturally, he applies for that apartment. It's even on the same floor as Yasha's, but unfortunately about as far away as you can get. Geez, this place is pricy, but Kujaku's got enough if he scrimps on other things. Hey, who honestly needs the internet or food other than rice and instant ramen? And once he finds another job, it'll be better.

So, in the time while he waits to get approved for the apartment, he finagles himself a position as a meditation instructor for the wealthy, because he's perfect for the job. He loves people, he knows the power of one's mind, and he can be a surprisingly good teacher when he's not giving people the runaround. So good, that's more money in his bank account, and soon Ms. Konoha is convinced that Kujaku will be the best tenant ever.

So he moves his possessions in, and he hasn't even finished unpacking the necessities before he's itching to go see Yasha. But first, he has to make a tasty bribe.

.

" '…And yet the paleness of her cheek spoke not of illness, but of a life lived out of the sun. She was a fine-featured, delicate woman, reminding him of nothing less than his childhood cat, an elegant creature not fond of touch but affectionate enough in her own way,' " Yasha recites to his computer, which is running a voice-activated writing program.

In fact, the entire laptop is voice-activated, pricy and custom, but it's his most prized possession. Prior to this, he had to dictate everything to an assistant. Oh, he still has an assistant to help him with revision, but writers are inspired all the time, not just when their assistant is on the clock. And unfortunately, Yasha's getting the distinct sense that Ryoku is going to jump ship soon; they've been clashing a lot lately over the stupidest things.

Yasha is the boss, dammit, and Ryoku is the assistant. Oh sure, the man is going for his Ph. D. in creative writing, and Yasha merely has a Master's in it, but Yasha's been doing this for nigh on eight years and Ryoku's only had short stories published, which frankly are nothing special. But _Yasha _is gifted at storytelling, which would come as a surprise to many in Tenkai who didn't know him as a child or hear him tell stories to Ashura. It's because of his reserved, not-chatty demeanor that people assume he doesn't know how to express himself. And truly… many authors can write better than they can talk.

He is working, currently, on a novel he's tentatively titled The Rain Is Warm, an angsty take on the many twists and turns of a modern romantic relationship. It's not very developed so far – he knows about a quarter of the major plot points, he's not sure how it's going to end, he's still hashing out what the characters' personalities are, and he hasn't even settled on what some of them look like. But he knows that the rain will symbolize both cleansing and sadness, thus the title.

He thinks for a moment, conjuring the character Hinata in his mind, then continues, " 'But she was angry, Hiro could easily tell. Her tiny shoulders were tense, her red mouth was twisted, and her walk was –' "

_Knock-knock-knock-knock!_

Ugh, someone's at the door again. Why don't people listen when he tells them he wants to be left alone? He valiantly tries to ignore it, but the knocking keeps going, so finally he gives the "save" command, pushes his chair back with violent motions, and stomps to the door. With gritted teeth and a scowl on his face, because he's _not _in the mood for some neighbor wanting to have a chat with him, or whatever the hell this is.

He opens the door with a barked, "Yes?" and hears a cheerful tenor say, "Howdy-howdy, neighbor! My name's Karasu Kujaku, and I was just _so _excited to learn that my favorite author lives on _this floor! _So I made the yummiest peanut butter chocolate chip cookies ever as a goodwill gesture, and I –"

"I'm allergic to peanuts and peanut products."

It was a flat, slightly annoyed sentence, and Kujaku just stares at Yasha for a while, suddenly really, really angry. How can he be allergic to peanuts, when Kujaku made these scrumptious cookies just for him?! He wasn't allergic to peanuts in Tenkai! Except, well, they didn't _have _peanuts in Tenkai, because peanuts are a South American food, so he probably actually was and they never knew. Dammit, just Kujaku's luck.

So he awkwardly replies, "Oh geez, I'm sorry. I just assumed you were okay with them. Um, is it bad for you to smell them, or –?"

"As long as I don't eat them, I'm fine," Yasha reassures him, suddenly feeling a little sorry for Kujaku. "I appreciate the gesture, really I do. It was kind of you to make those for me, Mr. Karasu. Would you like to come in?" he asks because he feels he has to, and because he's forgotten Kujaku's attempts to get in earlier. When you have that many obsessed fans, they start to blur together.

"Why _yes_, Mr. Hogosha, I would _love _to come in," Kujaku cheerily and fervently replies, stepping inside with the cookies and feeling his heart start to race. "Should I make some regular cookies later to make up for my mistake?"

Yasha awkwardly responds, "If you want to. Please don't feel that you need to."

"Oh, I want to. I like making things for people," Kujaku says with a smile as Yasha leads him into the living room, then gestures in the direction of a chair and urges, "Please, make yourself at home. You can put the cookies on the end table."

Kujaku obeys, perching on the couch in hopes that Yasha will sit next to him. But nope, Yasha asks matter-of-factly, "Are you sitting on the chair or the couch?"

"The couch."

"Then I will take the chair," Yasha replies with a tiny smile, settling himself into it and murmuring, "Are you unnerved by my disability? Many people are."

"No," Kujaku answers with all honesty. "I'm mostly impressed with how well you get around, and how everything's so neat. But I guess you keep it like that so you won't trip, huh? Do you have a living assistant or anything, or is it just you here?"

"No living assistant, not yet. I am remarkably self-sufficient," Yasha reveals with no discernible bragging in his tone. "But would you mind describing your appearance to me? I used to have my sight, and I like to build an image in my mind if possible."

Crossing his fingers for luck, Kujaku casually suggests, "Why don't you just feel my face and hair? I've heard blind people can do that and get a pretty good idea of what somebody looks like. I don't mind, and I want you to get an accurate picture. Unless of course that weirds you out."

Yasha cocks his head and slowly replies, "No, it doesn't. I do often do so to people I know well. But if you're offering, thank you. It will be helpful."

And with that he crosses to Kujaku and gently reaches his left hand out, fingers ghosting over facial features as Kujaku holds his breath. Oh wow, Yasha's touch. It feels so wonderful after so long, but he can tell it means nothing to Yasha but a "getting to know you" session. Yasha is frowning as he concentrates, obviously building that picture, with his other hand now gently running over Kujaku's hair.

"You have good cheekbones and skin," Yasha murmurs, sounding pleased. "What color are your eyes? And your hair?"

"My eyes are purple," Kujaku answers, with his lower lip practically tingling from Yasha's touch. "And my hair's so black it's purplish too."

"Unusual coloring," Yasha points out, a bit confused. "I've never heard of anyone with purple eyes before. Does it run in your family?" Heck, maybe there's a whole tribe of purple people out there and he's just never met one before.

"No," is Kujaku's accurate answer. "I'm some sort of mutation."

Which is true, in more ways than one. Here in Tokyo, his parents were brown-eyed with black and brown hair, and his mother had freckles while his father was balding at age twenty-five. And of course… in Tenkai he was even more of a surprise.

Sonsei screamed at the sight of her three-eyed baby, actually, and Tentei took one look at his son/nephew and blanched, then ordered the midwife that if she breathed a word of this, she was headed for the Water Jail. He refused to hold Kujaku, and in fact told Sonsei to drown him. When she protested, he marched her and baby Kujaku right on down to that cave, and Sonsei never came back out. Wow, feel the luuurve.

Not having a clue about that, Yasha just smirks a bit at Kujaku's "mutation" line, and privately thinks that his mother had to have been messing around with someone other than his supposed father. Oh well, he's not about to say anything of the sort, since that would be incredibly rude, and Yasha is not rude. Well, okay, he's a little aloof and standoffish, but that's better than calling someone's mother a slut to his face.

So he just agrees, "Yes, genetics is an interesting thing. So, Kujaku, what do you do?"

"I'm a meditation instructor. If you ever need some help with deep breathing or finding your inner balance, call me!" is Kujaku's proud response, before he takes a bite of his cookie.

"I'm fine with my inner balance, thank you. But I appreciate your offer," Yasha tells him honestly, then has to add, "You seem a little too high-energy to be a meditation instructor, if it's not too forward of me to say so. Or do you just slow way down when you're on the clock?"

"Heh. Yeah, I slow down, majorly," Kujaku chuckles, then is unable to help asking, "Is my high energy stressing you out? I can tone it down for you if you want."

Yasha considers that, and is rather surprised to come to the conclusion of "No, it's all right. Maybe it's even refreshing, now that I think about it. I don't have a lot of high-energy people in my life."

From there conversation moves to what Yasha likes to do for fun – read, work out, and listen to quality music. Then to what Kujaku likes to do for fun – read and watch funny things, run around for the hell of it, listen to anything he can get his hands on, and make prank calls with obnoxious accents and personalities. Then to why Yasha doesn't think that's funny, then to all sorts of things Kujaku thinks are funny, and so on and so forth. The time flies by, and when Yasha's clock strikes 5:30, Kujaku gives it a quizzical look because surely it's inaccurate.

"I suppose I should let you go, huh?" he questions reluctantly. "It's getting close to dinner time."

"Yes, yes it is. But Kujaku, please come over whenever you'd – okay, no, I write from about 8:00 to 3:00, longer if the inspiration is there. Besides that, come over whenever you'd like," Yasha offers with a smile as he stands up. "Can you let yourself out, or should I come with you?"

"Nah, I'm a big boy, I can let myself out," Kujaku responds with a wink that Yasha of course can't see.

Yasha likes him! Yasha wants him to come over at his discretion! Once he gets back to his apartment, Kujaku's totally doing a happy dance while screaming, "YES! _YES!_ Contact has been made and he wants more of it! Go Kuuu, go Kuuu, YEAH YEAH _YEAH!_"

"Okay. Seeya tomorrow," he grins thankfully as he opens the door, then with a happy "Bye 'til then!" he's practically dancing down the hallway.

Well. That's an interesting new neighbor and no mistake, Yasha has to think as he walks back to his desk. And yet he's not all that annoying, for all his overly cheerful personality. And he wasn't constantly asking Yasha about his characters, which was also welcomed. Yasha gets so abysmally tired of people querying with all seriousness, "Kana secretly loved Sai, right, because she spared his life?" when Sai killed Kana's boyfriend and she only spared him because she was a better person than he was, and so he could spend the rest of his life rotting in prison.

"He certainly is personable," Yasha says aloud as he sits back down. "And I certainly won't mind seeing him again. I could use a little sunshine in my life."

.

The next day, the expected Ryoku explosion has occurred – and how. The grad student went into a huge, screamed rant about how Yasha's not respecting his input enough, so Yasha had to remind him that _he _is the award-winning writer here, and Ryoku is here to help with the technology, not so much the story. Needless to say they terminated their working relationship, leaving Yasha rubbing his temples after Ryoku slammed the door. Great… this is the part where an assistant really comes in handy, and now he has nobody.

"Back to the university posting board," he mutters aloud as he lets his hands drop. "The problem is, they're all so arrogant because they're Ph. D. students. Maybe I should just ask the writing network for an experienced and personable assistant, surely there's one out there. It just might take a while."

He seats himself down in his kitchen and sighs in dismay, then presses his watch to hear the automated voice say, "The time is – three – oh – six – PM." Well … maybe Kujaku can take his mind off his woes if he comes over. Kujaku made him laugh before and he can more than likely make him laugh again. Idly and without much real interest, Yasha wonders what Mr. Karasu is doing at this moment.

"…So I'm making him regular cookies now," Kujaku is telling Kisshouten over the phone, as the timer for the oven ticks down. "I still can't believe the irony of his peanut allergy."

His half-sister can't help a giggle, then teases, "Yes, you were _forced_ to eat all those delicious cookies by yourself. But I'm willing to bet he'll accept the plain chocolate chip ones!"

"I hope so, Kissh. I _reeeeeeally _do. He likes me so far, but it's just, you know, it's driving me bonkers having to start out slow when I know what I do. I want to be tackling him and demonstrating my smooch technique, but if I did that now he'd freak out and never want to see me again," Kujaku sighs in resignation, putting his spare hand to his forehead.

Kisshouten makes a soothing noise, then encourages him with, "Taking it slow won't kill you now, after forty-three years of waiting. And you waited five hundred years for the Yama Sword to be needed to counteract the Shura Sword! Draw on that, okay? And you know I'm here for you whenever you need me. Except, well, when my Prince Charming and I are spending some private time together."

"Don't wanna interrupt that!" Kujaku brightly agrees. "Nope, I do not. Speaking of Tenou, how did his big psychology paper turn out?"

"It turned out amazingly –"

That's when the timer starts shrilling, and Kujaku hastily puts the phone down to take his cookies out. Then, as they slowly cool, he's back to talking to Kisshouten. But he's antsy, he wants those stupid cookies to cool faster, and when they're finally at a temperature that won't burn Yasha's mouth, he's able to hang up and go on over to his beloved's apartment.

This time, Yasha lights up at the smell of the cookies before Kujaku can even say, "I made you cookies you _aren't _allergic too!" Mmm, yummy. Yasha usually eats healthy, but a chocolate chip cookie here and there is an indulgence. If he spaces them out, he can make them last for a long time.

"Thank you," he tells Kujaku fervently, as Kujaku struts inside and deposits the cookies on the coffee table. "That was very kind of you, and they smell delicious. They're oatmeal, yes?"

"Yeah. Dang, you've got a good nose."

"When one sense is taken away, the others usually are magnified," Yasha informs him with a shrug. "But anyway, this really brightens my day. My assistant I got into a big fight and I fired him, so I was pretty frustrated before you came. Thank you again, Kujaku. Please, have some cookies yourself."

But Kujaku doesn't reach for the cookies and start shoveling them into his mouth like he usually would. Instead, he's turning this new opportunity around and around in his mind. No assistant? Perhaps he can be the new one! He actually has been writing a journal ever since he encountered Kahra, and not to brag, but the prose is fairly good. He likes to write down memories and see how well he can word them, a legacy from his wandering player days, and maybe he was unconsciously honing his skills for just this opportunity.

"Maybe I can be your assistant," he suggests in a happy tone. "I'm pretty good at writing!"

Yasha is far from convinced. Many, many people think they're good at writing, some of them even write best-sellers (definitely not a reliable indicator of talent), but they could really stand to improve an awful lot. So he shakes his head and sighs, "I'm sure you are, but I need someone who's _exceptional _at –"

"Okay, here's a little sampling of my work," Kujaku says seriously, then launches into a poem he wrote back in Tenkai but never shared with Yasha:

"He guarded the demon for long long years,

At his post while he shed tears

As the palace crumbled all around,

And nothing good there could be found

Oh guardian, scarred beaten burned,

Nothing in the world could turn

His gaze from the child he knew

And there was but one thing he could do

"Watch, be vigilant forever

A father's love cannot be severed."

Yasha is silent, and Kujaku waits hopefully for gushing praise. Instead he gets, "Well, it's not _awful_, but it's very simple. And you don't explain the backstory at all, and –"

"Okay, okay, that was an old piece of poetry," Kujaku protests with his color up. "Here's a sampling of some newer prose, all right? It's about a warrior lady who likes birds and her commander who loves her, and he's watching her from afar because he thinks she doesn't love him, but she really does. Ahem –

" 'White feathers danced in her wake, from her constant avian companion. The general would surreptitiously catch one now and again when her back was turned, holding it to his heart and wishing it were her. But never would she come to him, he was utterly convinced, never would he taste her sweet lips or feel her soft ivory skin. No, she would glide away like she always did, elegant and as out of his reach as the sky itself.'

"Is that better?" he demands of the writing elitist, unable to keep a tiny note of snarkiness out of it. Hmph, Yasha insulted the poem Kujaku loves so much!

But Yasha smiles now, and warmly replies, "Yes indeed, that _is _better. Your wordplay is improved, the imagery is good, and you've touched on the senses of sight, taste, and touch. So all right, Kujaku, I think we just might be able to work together. Let's draw up a temporary contract, all right?"

And they do, thanks to that lovely voice software. Kujaku barely haggles over the wage at all, something very unusual, because this is so awesome! Cool, he can reduce his hours at the meditation studio, and maybe eventually drop them altogether if this goes well. Kujaku gets to see Yasha do his thing, and be with him for _hours on end!_ Pinch him, he's dreaming!

.

It's been about a month, and things are going very, very well. Kujaku knows the story just as well as Yasha does, he's expert with the writing program, he's helpful and diligent and willing to work overtime, and gosh darn it, this is _fun_. He's getting paid to use his imagination! Could there be a better job?

They take a break, pleased with the three pages they just got down, and Kujaku has to say, "Yasha, you know, I'm still really impressed you went into creative writing as a blind guy. Must have been hard!"

"I must be one of the few blind authors in the world," Yasha replies in a sigh, sounding not proud but put-upon. "I wasn't always blind, so that explains it. Although really, back before written language and in societies without it, blind people were often storytellers, relying on their memories. Anyway, it was an unfortunate accident of genetics that did my eyesight in, when I was fifteen. I mean, I'd needed glasses since age six, but finally there was nothing they could do, and now I only see black."

"Wow. Geez, Yasha, I'm sorry," Kujaku says with great honesty. "So did you always want to be a writer?"

"No, but I've always loved stories," Yasha tells him, leaning back in his chair. "I used to read book after book, and the library was my second home. I like the power of words over visuals, so I don't miss movies very much. But until I learned to read Braille, I was distraught that I couldn't read my books anymore. Thank gods for books on CD. And for recording devices and long-suffering assistants who typed it all up and helped me make corrections. It's very difficult, writing blind, but it can be done. For which I am very thankful."

"What would you have done if you couldn't write?" Kujaku questions, fascinated. "Would you have gone into music, writing lyrics and playing by ear?"

Yasha thinks for a moment, then answers a bit reluctantly, "Maybe, although I can't sing, so perhaps I would have learned to play an instrument and just done that. Or perhaps I would have fallen into depression, taken my disability pension from the government, and sat around at home feeling sorry for myself."

"I don't think you would have done that," Kujaku replies as he shakes his head, serious and proud of Yasha. "You would have found something to do with your life, because you're not the type of person to be content with just sitting around. You like to do things."

_You like to change worlds, and protect those who need protecting, and be active, _he mentally elaborates, remembering the Guardian Warrior who practiced day-in, day-out, and had such a strong sense of vengeance that Kujaku wanted to tell him, "Lighten up."

Yasha smiles then, yanking him back to Tokyo, and murmurs, "Yes, you're right there. But tell me, Kujaku… what did _you _always want to be? What was your dream for your life? And don't joke and say 'Superman,' I mean it now."

Kujaku wants to say, "I always wanted to be loved, back where it really counted. Because my parents hated me, and no one ever trusted me, and only Ashura and you ever thought I was one of your favorite people in the world. Why do you think I clung to the two of you, Yasha? You two showed me love, and I craved it so badly."

But instead, he laughs and fobs it off with, "Oh, I dunno. I've done an awful lot of things already. My dream is just to find somebody to share my life with. As for a career…" He thinks, lights up, and practically sings, "I want to be a professional dancer!"

Yasha is incredulous, and asks in disbelief, "A _dancer? _I thought you were a meditation instructor."

"I _am _a meditation instructor," Kujaku huffs, annoyed that Yasha isn't on board with his dream job. "But I can move, lemme tell you. I know all sorts of dances, from all around the world! If you could just see, I'd do my pop-and-lock right here, right now. All we'd need is some ludicrously loud hip-hop music, and it'll all be good," he smirks, picturing the crabby old lady down the hall getting annoyed at the bass.

"No, there's no need for that," Yasha hastily replies, since he despises hip-hop. "Why don't you just –"

"Let's dance right now!" Kujaku suggests eagerly, getting up and seizing Yasha's hands. "Nothing hard like a tango, but what about a waltz? Waltzes are real easy, you just –"

"I don't dance," is Yasha's grumpy answer, and Kujaku feels a keen disappointment. But he rallies and wheedles, "I'll teach you, it's actually pretty easy once you just get the hang of it. You just count 'one, two, three, one, two three,' over and over, and you start out by –"

"Kujaku, I've never been able to dance in my life, all right?" Yasha protests a bit snappishly, horrible memories of gym class intruding into his head. "I'm coordinated enough, dare I say graceful when I walk, but I just can't get the hang of dancing. If you make me dance, you have to – to buy me some fancy wine or something equally nice, because I refuse to put myself through dancing without getting something out of it," he says loftily, certain that this will make Kujaku drop the subject and go back to talking about living with blindness.

"Okay," is Kujaku's immediate and enthusiastic response. "You name the brand, I buy the bottle! So stand up, pal, we're gonna dance now."

Yasha's jaw drops in shock, and Kujaku patiently reminds him, "You gave me an option, and I took it. So up, Mr. Grumpypants, 'cause we're gonna waltz like you've never waltzed before!"

Yasha tries to think of a way out of this, then has to smile as he admits, "I did give you an option, so I have only myself to blame. All right," he agrees as he stands up, and Kujaku gently takes hold of his arm and steers him towards the middle of the living room.

"Now, let's pretend I'm a woman," Kujaku says in an exaggerated falsetto voice, fluttering his eyelashes. "You rest your right hand on my waist, you take my right hand in your left hand, and you set the pace and do the steering, okay?"

"No, _you _do the steering, because I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Okie-dokie. I am the _man_," Kujaku asserts in his Zouchouten impression voice, then goes on, "Just count in your head like I said, with the emphasis on the 'one.' Imagine there's a box on the floor, okay? Start with your feet together, now you step backward with your right foot while I step forward with my left. …I said, you step backward," he prods, nudging Yasha's foot with his to get him to obey.

"Oh! Right. Okay," Yasha hastily agrees, doing as Kujaku says.

"Good. Now, I step diagonally with my right foot and you step diagonally with your left – good! Now we…"

And so Kujaku teaches Yasha to waltz. It's true that he's not very good at it – in fact he's very _bad _at it – but this still sets Kujaku's heart pounding. Yasha for his part is getting very annoyed, wondering how many times they have to do this stupid step before his pushy assistant lets him off the hook. Why do people find dancing _fun? _It's an ordeal! He'd rather be writing now, or even washing dishes, because he hates being bad at something. He's a natural at so many impressive things, so when something comes up that he struggles with, he feels it more than someone who's not as talented.

Finally he has to ask, "Can we stop? I'm just getting more and more agitated."

Kujaku pouts at that, but reluctantly releases his beloved as he sighs, "I'm sorry. You just need to loosen up, okay? If you go into it with the attitude that you hate it, of _course _you're gonna get agitated."

Yasha rolls his eyes behind the sunglasses, a gesture he still does even though it's useless. Ugh, positive self-talk. He should have expected his from a meditation instructor. He knows the value of it, of course he does, but sometimes you hate something no matter how much you're lying to yourself in your head.

Still he forces himself to let this annoyance go, and tells Kujaku, "Well, I think our break is over. And this dancing thing has given me an idea for Chapter Fifteen. Shall we get back to work, then?"

"Sure! Sure, let's go. But see Yasha," Kujaku is unable to help adding, "sometimes even stuff you don't like can get those creative juices flowing!"

As Yasha dictates, Kujaku sort of types on autopilot, too occupied with his thoughts to give the typing his full attention. That's fine, he can multitask like few other people on this planet. So while his fingers tick and tap, his mind focuses on the dance. Oh man… that was amazing, feeling Yasha's body against his again, and Yasha's hand in his, and Yasha's heart beating. Finally they were intimately connected after so long, and while he's pretty sure Yasha doesn't view it that way, Kujaku sure does. And really, c'mon, dancing the waltz is inherently romantic, right?

But Yasha thinks nothing along those lines. He is fully focused on his story, having put the trying dance behind him with no desire to ever endure it again.

.

Now it's three weeks later, and Yasha has invited Kujaku over for a very special dinner, because his brother is going to be present as well. Yay, Yasha likes Kujaku enough to introduce him to his family! Not the parents yet, of course not that, but the brother is good.

Rasetsu, Rasetsu. Of course he would be here, wouldn't he? Now, he isn't part of Kujaku's job so he may never remember, but it would be nice to actually meet him instead of just watching him from the shadows. He's prickly and prone to exaggerated changes in view, given the way he was so gung-ho about killing Yasha in Tenkai and hating Ashura at first. And not five hours later, he was patting Ashura on the head and sacrificing himself to keep Koumokuten from tracking them down – or at least slowing his progress, since Mr. Turbanhead found them anyway.

Kujaku amuses himself by wondering what Rasetsu and Koumokuten would do if they were face-to-face now, then it's driven out of his head as he knocks on Yasha's door. Big surprise, a blind guy isn't able to cook a fancy dinner all by himself, so Kujaku volunteered his expert services. Yasha's picked the food out and found the recipes, Kujaku will handle the hard stuff.

Yasha answers the door with a smile, and Kujaku excitedly greets, "Hey boss. It's me. And I'm all set to cook up the yummiest dinner you've ever tasted!"

Yasha smiles and steps back with a pleasant, "I hope so. Thank you again for your offer, because we wouldn't have been able to have a meal nearly this fancy without you."

Cooking is, surprisingly, possible for a lot of blind people, but it takes extra work and lots of practice, and difficult recipes are out of reach for most of them. Yasha has learned through trial, error, and a couple smoke alarms going off how to cook what he needs day-to-day, but he's excited for what he'll be getting tonight. He leads Kujaku into the kitchen, easily able to tell his friend is following him by his footsteps, and sweeps an arm out at the ingredients he's already prepared.

"Tonight, we're having a French dinner," he says proudly. "Rasetsu brought these recipes back for me from Montpellier three years ago. Poached salmon with shallot, dill, and parsley, with my personal favorite European vegetable dish… Brussels sprouts!"

"Brussels sprouts," Kujaku weakly responds, with a sickly little smile. "Oh… yummy. Okay, Yasha, I _really _don't want to be rude, but I kind of don't like Brussels sprouts." Which is an understatement; he had them once and almost threw them back up, they taste so noxious to him.

"Well, that's what we're having," Yasha grumpily stresses. "Rasetsu and I both like them, but surely you can just eat the salmon if it bothers you so much."

Kujaku sighs but hastens to agree, "Sure. Sorry."

_Ugh, ugh, ugh, _he internally groans as the demon little cabbage-things cook. _Even the smell is icky!_ _I won't even enjoy the salmon as much because my nose is filled with the stench of Brussels sprouts! What lunatic decided humanity should eat those things?! I wonder how mad Yasha would be if I "accidentally" burned them._

Oh, Kujaku… such a child sometimes. Maybe that's why he related to Ashura so well.

But he soldiers on for his burning love, or something inspiring and romantic like that, and refrains from ruining the Brussels sprouts. Making Yasha mad is never a good idea; he's done it a couple times and it's no fun. And dang, Yasha gets mad pretty easily, even though he hasn't blown up that Kujaku has seen – here, at any rate. Some of his blowups when various Westland baddies threatened Ashura were quite enjoyable for the winged man to watch.

A firm knock comes from the door in much less time than Kujaku expected. Perhaps Rasetsu galloped to the elevator and down the hall? He's somewhat of an "I really don't care what's polite and what's not" kind of guy, so it wouldn't surprise Kujaku in the least. He trails Yasha to the door, but before the taller man opens it, he desperately whispers, "Please try not to annoy him."

"Right."

Yasha has barely swung the door open before a tall man with unruly black hair and unruly black eyebrows seizes him a bear hug, grinning, "Hello big brother. It's been way too long!"

"Rasetsu, we saw each other last weekend," Yasha reminds him, but he grins and hugs back as he does so.

Rasetsu catches sight of Kujaku then, lets his brother go, and bows to the shorter man with a hearty, "And you must be Kujaku, the new assistant."

"That's me! And who could you be but Rasetsu? Ooh, I bet your girlfriend's name is Shara!" Kujaku brightly guesses, but Rasetsu just gives him a weird look and replies in a suspicious tone, "No. I don't even have a girlfriend, ever since the last one cheated on me with my former best friend."

"Uh… right. Don't mind me, you just reminded me of somebody I knew with a girlfriend named Shara," Kujaku smiles, a little disappointed that those two aren't together. Oh well, maybe she'll show up later.

Kujaku hastily changes the subject, but Rasetsu is still eyeing him warily. All Kujaku's jokes are met with stony silence and annoyed expressions, all questions are met with brusque answers, and Rasetsu asks Kujaku hardly anything in return. He doesn't like him, anyone can see that, and so when Kujaku excuses himself to check on the dinner, Rasetsu wastes no time in cornering Yasha.

"I don't like that guy," he hisses into Yasha's ear, as Kujaku whistles as he works. "Yasha, he's just too… I dunno, too _something_. Smarmy, maybe. I mean, you only met him a couple months ago, and already he's your new best friend? How do you know he really is what he says he is? I'm getting the 'liar' vibe from him loud and clear, and he's hiding something. What I don't know, but –"

"Every human is hiding something," Yasha replies, low and annoyed. "I am, you are, the crabby old lady down the hall is. Prime ministers, priests, teachers, little kids – everybody. For all you know, Rasetsu, he's hiding that he's petrified of clowns, and he thinks we'll laugh at him if he tells us."

"I wouldn't," Rasetsu disagrees with a shudder. "Clowns are freaky. Their face paint makes it look like they're smiling, but they're not _really _smiling."

"Who's not really smiling?" Kujaku merrily queries as he trots back into the room. "Can't be me, I'm smiling all the time! You two, though, are usually not."

Rasetsu's growled response to that is, "Because we're not insufferably peppy. Honestly, you're annoying me with your –"

"Stop it, Rasetsu. Stop it, Kujaku," Yasha orders in his best "I'm the boss" voice. "I'd like a nice dinner tonight, not an argument. Now why don't we all sit down and talk about – about baseball. Rasetsu is very into baseball, and many other sports," he directs at Kujaku.

And so they talk about baseball for the twelve minutes it takes for the salmon to finish cooking. Kujaku really couldn't care less about baseball, Yasha of course doesn't for obvious reasons, but Rasetsu is all excited about sports. Yay, testosterone-slathered competition! Oh boy, only a non-blind man who's a wimp doesn't like that. And that's exactly what Rasetsu's pegged Kujaku as, unfortunately. If only he knew the multiple badass things Kujaku did in Tenkai…

"You're not eating any Brussels sprouts," Rasetsu bluntly accuses, leveling a chopstick at Kujaku five minutes later. "You think you're too good for them?"

Kujaku is opening his mouth to retort, "No, they just taste like vomit," when Yasha forestalls him with the snapped, "Rasetsu, you're being very rude right now. Kujaku just dislikes them, all right? He was kind enough to make them for us even with that dislike, so please, stop taking such a combative tone."

Rasetsu sighs and mutters an apology, then tries to turn over a new leaf as he jovially asks, "So Kujaku, you must have some experience as a writer yourself, if you can be Yasha's assistant. What have you had published?"

_A warrant for my arrest, back in Tenkai, _Kujaku thinks before he can stop himself, but replies aloud, "Well, actually, I haven't had anything published. I've written a lot for my own amusement, and some of it was good enough for Yasha to want to hire me. I'm learning a lot with him," he says honestly, and sends a smile Yasha's way.

Rasetsu seems able to accept that, and dinner continues along pleasant enough lines. When it's all cleared away they talk in the living room, although this is more awkward and in fact, Rasetsu gets mad at Kujaku for his views on nuclear power. It's not a verbal meltdown but his voice is definitely raised, until Yasha defuses this situation with a skillful change of subject.

Finally Rasetsu says, with obvious relief, "I've got to go now. Bye Yasha, and it was, uh – _nice _to meet you, Kujaku. Won't you walk me to my car?" he asks with a fake smile, and both Kujaku and Yasha know what's coming.

Yasha nods, and Kujaku replies in an deliberately annoying chipper voice, "Well golly, that sounds just _swell_, Rasetsu! Be right back, Yasha," he says over his shoulder, as he walks to the door behind his love's suspicious brother.

"Bye Rasetsu," Yasha sighs in resignation. And once they're fifteen feet down the hall, Rasetsu cuts to the chase.

"Okay," he growls low in his throat, reaching out and pinning Kujaku to the wall with a tanned, steely arm. "What are you up to? You're up to _something_, and I refuse to let you take advantage of my brother. Have you been stealing his stuff? Have you been embezzling his money? Or are you gay and want to seduce him? He's straight, by the way."

_I wouldn't bet on it, _Kujaku mutters in the privacy of his own head, but aloud he seriously replies, "I'm not trying to do any of those, I promise. He's my friend, and I work for him. The only things I'm trying to do are help with his writing, and make him have some fun as a pal. I mean, c'mon dude, he needs to shake things up sometimes. Wanna stop hurting me before I have to raise my voice?" he demands a bit snappishly, poking at Rasetsu's arm.

Rasetsu lets him go, only to cross his arms, lean in, and threaten, "If I find out that you screwed Yasha over, I am going to hunt you down and make you pay. He always had my back when we were kids, and now I protect him like he protected me. You mess with my brother, you're gonna regret it. Understand?"

"Yeah. Chillax, okay? The _last _thing I wanna do is mess with my friend," Kujaku assures Rasetsu, and this time it seems to penetrate the bigger man's bullheaded shell.

He takes a step back with a sigh, letting his arms drops, and quietly replies, "Well, that's good. But I still think you're hiding something."

Kujaku cocks his head, smiles slightly, and replies, "Maybe I'm hiding a painful childhood, ever think of that? Maybe it's hard for me to watch two brothers be so close and healthy, because my brother beat me up all the time and I've been estranged for twenty years, for my own safety. Try not to jump to worst-case scenario conclusions, okay? Sometimes it's really harmless, in regard to you and Yasha anyway."

And Rasetsu swallows this like a python does a bunny. With an embarrassed expression on his face, he apologizes, "I'm so sorry. I just – I do assume to the worst when it comes to Yasha, because people have tried to take advantage of him before. He's always figured it out though, so I guess maybe I am being paranoid," he admits ruefully, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck.

_I've got your number, oh yes I do, _Kujaku smugly thinks, then pats him on the shoulder with a calm, "Hey, I can see why. Now, I do think he's getting worried, so I'd like to go back."

"Yeah. Yeah, see you. And sorry again."

And with that they're turning away, Kujaku chortling madly inside his head. HA! There is a side to Rasetsu that longs to take care of people, given Shara, Ashura, and Yasha's Tenkai mother, and pretty soon he'll probably be best buds with poor "brother-abused" Kujaku. It doesn't matter if he tells Yasha Kujaku's sob story, because hey, Yasha might want to take care of Kujaku too! It's win-win!

When he walks through the door, Yasha immediately asks, "How did he threaten you?"

"Eh, he just said if I messed with you I'd pay," Kujaku shrugs easily, shutting the door behind him. "But we talked it out, and we're cool now. Don't worry about us, it's all good in the hood."

.

_I like spending time with Kujaku, _Yasha thinks fifteen days later as he prepares to go out. _I have a best friend now, one who isn't my brother. One who makes me laugh even when he exasperates me, one who brightens my day, one who helps me so much and truly is gifted at storytelling. That blowup with Ryoku is the best thing that ever happened to me. Perhaps we would have become friends without it, but I doubt we would be as close as we are now._

Yes, they are quite close. They know little things about each other, the sort only an intimate friend can know, and this is in a way frightening to Yasha. He hasn't had an intimate friend for so long, since he likes his barriers, and being vulnerable is something he truly hates. It's tough to know that if Kujaku moves away Yasha will be downright depressed, and if Kujaku becomes angry at him he'll feel far more hurt than with anyone else. More than with Rasetsu, really, because Rasetsu will always love him no matter what small problems their relationship has.

Oh, manly men… sometimes they're at such an emotional disadvantage. Yasha even makes his living spinning stories about his characters' emotions, and he's still inept at this sort of thing. Why? Maybe because as a child he never really had a close friend besides his brother, and he was so focused on being the best that most of the other kids resented him anyway. And he _was_ the best at pretty much everything, until the blindness robbed him of so many abilities.

But with Kujaku, it's like whatever shortfalls Yasha has, Kujaku can pick up the slack. It's like when Yasha has a problem, Kujaku has the solution. It's like Kujaku knows Yasha maybe better than he knows himself, and that too is frightening yet flattering at the same time. And it's like Yasha wants to be with Kujaku with every spare moment, and he often is.

_I wonder if I should give him a nickname, _he thinks as he runs his hand down the hallway wall, counting the doors and occasionally reading the Braille. _Buddies give each other nicknames, right? Ah, but then he might give me a stupid one like "Yashie" or "Ya-Ya," so perhaps I should just play it safe and stick with his full name._

Here's Kujaku's door. Yasha knocks firmly, and in no time at all he hears the door swing open and Kujaku saying, "Well _helloooo _Yasha! Where do you want to go for our walk today?"

"I don't care. You pick," he decides with an encouraging smile as Kujaku locks the door.

"Hmmmm… I dunno, let's just see what we can see! Oh, speaking of things you can see, I saw the funniest thing yesterday…"

Kujaku chatters on as they make their way to the elevator and then down the hallway, into the glitzy lobby and out the fancy door. But he really should have been looking where he was going, because he doesn't realize the front steps are where they are. He steps into space and loses his balance, his arm yanking itself out of Yasha's grasp as his painful fall begins. On stone steps.

_Bonk-bonk-bonk-bonk-bonk! _

"Holy _shit _that hurt!" he downright wails, sprawled at the foot of the stairs with his feet higher than his head and bruises all over. His vision is swimming, his head pounds with pain, and oh man, whatever happened to his natural grace?

"Kujaku!" Yasha yells in concern, coming down the steps as fast as he dares. Kujaku finds this darkly ironic – the blind man is sure-footed and keeps his balance, the able-bodied man missed a step and paid the price. Soon Yasha flings himself down at his side, his hand going to Kujaku's face to check for injuries as he frantically asks, "How are you hurt?"

"Nothing's broken," Kujaku sighs, sitting up with a wince. "I don't _think _anything's sprained, and I don't think I have a concussion either. I'm a little dazed, but I think I'm gonna be okay."

_Good, _Yasha thinks in relief, because he panicked when Kujaku fell and kept falling. It was just as terrifying as if Rasetsu or himself had fallen, and that makes Yasha confused. Kujaku is his very close friend, but… this feels more like it would if a man he was attracted to had fallen down a flight of stairs. That's a startling realization, and it shows on his face as he gently helps Kujaku get up.

But alas, Kujaku thinks it's only concern for a pal, and he pats Yasha's shoulder as he assures him, "Really, I'm okay. I just need some food to make me feel better! C'mon, Yasha, let's get something from a street vendor," he urges, pulling the writer along.

"Yes," Yasha manages to say normally, putting his hand on Kujaku's arm again to follow him. "I… you're _sure _you're all right?"

"Positive. And food makes everything better."

As they walk along Yasha thinks, very very hard. He certainly likes and values Kujaku so much as a close friend and talented assistant, he has a pretty good idea of what he looks like, and he has had a number of erotic dreams and waking fantasies featuring the man. But – it's still sort of scary. Japan is far from a gay-rights nation, and Yasha's pretty sure his family will freak out if he tells them he's in love with a man. His parents are homophobes, no doubt about it, and while Yasha has finally accepted that he's gay, telling them isn't something he wants to do.

Rasetsu… he doesn't exactly know how Rasetsu would react. He isn't a rabid bigot like their parents, but he's never said anything to the effect of "Hey, it's natural and all cool with me." The younger Hogosha brother firmly believes that his beloved big bro is heterosexual, as Kujaku can attest to, because Yasha's hardly done anything at all with other men. He certainly never gave the barest indication that he was questioning his sexuality to his family, and Rasetsu's not that great at picking up on things unsaid.

Perhaps the author should ignore this, because what if it scares Kujaku off? What if Kujaku is a homophobe too? Yasha doesn't think he is but he's been proven wrong before, and even if Kujaku is accepting, he might very well be straight.

Maybe, maybe not. Suddenly that waltz seems laden with homoerotic subtext, and every casual touch does too. So does every word of personal praise on both parts, even. Yasha thought that Kujaku had a woman's lips when he touched them to learn his face, even though at the time he had no conscious attraction to the man. That came later, about a week after the waltz, and now Yasha wonders why the waltz didn't do it then and there. They were chest-to-chest, holding hands… how many straight men would dance like that with a platonic pal? He's willing to bet none.

But this could be ruined _so _easily, and then he's without the best assistant he's ever had. So Hogosha Yasha decides to wait and see what develops, what depth of feelings Kujaku stirs in him, and what other little clues there might be. He will hope, he might even pray, but he knows that he could very well have his ardor cool in time.

_I might be falling for you, _he mentally whispers as Kujaku halts in front of a shish kebab cart. _I have to think on this some more._

_._

It's two months later, February to be precise. The Rain Is Warm has been coming along very well, and Kujaku is pretty sure it will be another best-seller. The characters have undergone numerous revisions and become very nuanced, the plot will keep the readers on their toes, the prose is fantastic, and Kujaku is proud that he helped with all of those. In fact, Yasha told him that this book will be billed as written by "Hogosha Yasha and Karasu Kujaku," which gave the former stargazer such a cool feeling. He's an author too now, not just an assistant, and that's awesome.

_I think I might have found my calling, _he thinks contentedly as he walks to Yasha's apartment. _I'm good with words, and let's face it, Yasha's work could use a little humor. All that heavy, dark, angsty fighting stuff can be oppressive! It's good to change it up just a little, if only for more variety._

"Hey _Yaaaaa_-sha," he sings as he raps on the door. "I'm heeeere!"

"I could teeeeelll," Yasha sings back as he opens it with a grin, and Kujaku bursts into happy laughter. Yasha is being playful! Will wonders never cease?

The purple-eyed man pats him on the head as he walks in, and says cheekily, "I've never heard you sing before! You have a decent voice, from what I just heard. You must be in a good mood, huh? Is it because of little old me, or do you just have a great idea for the book?"

"Both," Yasha says firmly, still smiling. "You know how much I like you. Now, as for my idea –"

"Hold on, I suddenly need some water," Kujaku interrupts apologetically, and Yasha nods in understanding and follows him into the kitchen.

As Kujaku fills a glass and drinks deeply, he studies his companion. Yasha appears… _focused_, in addition to pleased. Ooh, focused Yasha, focused Yasha is sexy! The way he purses his lips, the way he stands so tall, the way his entire bearing seems to radiate intent. Cool, cool, he looks like this when he's about to whip out some brilliant plot point, turn of phrase, or piece of dialogue. Kujaku can't wait to learn what it is.

He conscientiously puts his glass in the dishwasher and takes a couple steps towards his pal, asking, "So Yasha, did you figure out how Hiro and Hinata are going to end up in bed yet? I know you were wrestling with making that one believable."

"I've decided to change things," Yasha replies, his voice quiet but intense. "Hiro will fall in love with Shou, thus taking the story in a new direction and giving it more tension, as Hinata is already in love with him. And of course, he'll love her too, and –"

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa_," Kujaku cuts in, holding up a "time-out" symbol out of habit. "Yasha, Shou's his best friend! Who's married to Yoko! And we were like three-fourths done with the story, and we wrote some really good scenes with –"

"Sometimes in writing, you have to make changes like that. Sometimes the story goes in a direction you hadn't anticipated," Yasha tells him bluntly, and Kujaku realizes that he's slowly but surely backing him up, towards the wall. As he ponders why this is, Yasha's voice gets softer as he goes on, "Sometimes, you get a different inspiration, one you didn't realize you'd be getting."

_Bump._

That was the sound of Kujaku's back hitting the wall, so soft he barely heard it. But Yasha's ears must have registered the noise, because he halts mere centimeters before he smacks into his assistant.

Kujaku just stares, and in his mind, a little voice babbles, _This isn't about the book anymore, he looks all intense, thank you Bhagavaana, thank you Fate, unless I'm dreaming but even if I am, I'll take it. Yasha, Yasha, Yasha, please don't be about to say something like "Psych!" and burst out laughing._

"I think," Yasha murmurs, as Kujaku holds his breath out of fear of shattering this delicate moment, "that I can write a man in love with his male friend very, very convincingly." And with that, he takes hold of Kujaku's jaw as the shorter man's eyes drop closed.

"Very convincingly indeed," Yasha whispers in a seductive tone, then leans in and kisses him.

Kujaku _wants _to throw his arms and even a leg around Yasha, smooching him back with all the passion his soul possesses, but instead he just returns the pressure of Yasha's lips. So far those lips are closed, but – whoa, okay, he's opening his mouth, no tongue yet but taking Kujaku's lower lip between his. At that Kujaku can't take it anymore, and slowly lets his tongue run along the seam of those lips, and it works because the kiss turns French (_mais oui_).

It's Kujaku's first kiss in this life, and it's obviously not Yasha's but that's to be expected, isn't it? Yasha didn't know he was destined for Kujaku, after all. But Kujaku is pleased with himself that he remembers exactly what to do, and soon Yasha's pressing him hard against the wall as his mouth grows ever more demanding. Oh _yeah_, Yasha's got it bad, and that makes Kujaku want to burst into song – if he wasn't busy being kissed senseless, that is.

Finally they part, and Kujaku tangles his hand in Yasha's hair as he pants out, "I love you too. Yasha, I've loved you for – for _forever_."

Yasha smiles at this, but can't help but remind him, "You can't have loved me _forever_, we only met less than a year ago. But I'll believe you've loved me since you met me."

"Yeah," Kujaku breathes in happy agreement, then leans forward for another passionate kiss. When this one is broken, he pants out, "I'm gay. You too, or just bi?"

"I'm a gay man who was in denial for years, and has never done anything with other males save kiss one when I was drunk, at a high school party," Yasha answers as he touches Kujaku's hair in turn. "At first I was so ashamed of it, then I came to accept it only two years ago, but I just thought, 'Well, I'm not going to seek out other men. If I'm meant to be with a man, he'll come to me.' And you did," he purrs, then goes in for a third tongued kiss.

_Mmm, Yasha, yes indeedy, _Kujaku thinks happily as he lets one of his hands splay against his counterpart's hard chest. _I've been a good boy, and you're my reward. And with any luck, we're going to do something sexual here, _he thinks as he gently rubs his middle finger around Yasha's nipple. Women aren't the only ones who are sensitive there!

Yasha _likes _that, he likes it a lot. He makes a small noise of pleasure into Kujaku's mouth, then pulls back with his tongue touching Kujaku's until the final moment. Oh ho, the peacock is definitely signaling a willingness to explore sexual territory. Yasha feels like Columbus right now, with a whole new world set before him – except, you know, Columbus thought the Bahamas were India, but let's not split hairs.

"I like that," Yasha tells Kujaku quite happily. "Keep doing it, while I do… this," he grins as his left hand drops to cup Kujaku's crotch.

OMFG, Yasha is touching Kujaku's man-parts! Gently, very gently indeed, but not hesitantly at all. He's new to this sure, but he figures that the time for holding back is behind him. So he presses lightly with his fingertips as he slowly strokes up and down and all around, easily able to tell what he's making contact with, and that it's starting to respond to his tantalizing touch. Ah… yes, that's right, get hard for Yasha, Kujaku, that's exactly what he wants.

The author's hands go to his assistant's belt buckle, and he asks teasingly, "May I take it out and play with it?"

"_Fuck yes._ Play with it like it's your new favorite toy you got for Christmas," Kujaku urges a bit desperately, and with another grin Yasha unbuckles that belt.

Oh, the smooth metal and leather on his hands, warm from Kujaku's body heat; the hard little contours of the zipper pressing into the pads of his fingers as he pulls it downwards; the coarse feel of denim and then the soft feel of cotton briefs… and then the hot, hardening, pulsing skin of Kujaku's sex, which Yasha brings out gently and reverently. Ooh, it's big, maybe not quite as large as Yasha's own but far from disappointing. Yasha roughly shoves Kujaku's pants and underwear down to get at the rest, because he knows very well that those other features are important for pleasure too.

"My my, aren't you big boy, Mr. Karasu," Yasha smirks as his caress skims the length of Kujaku's shaft. "You should be proud of this."

"I am," Kujaku manages in a gasp, letting his eyes slipped closed in his pleasure. "I… ohhh yeah…"

"Tell me Kujaku," Yasha murmurs, with a slight smile on his lips, "what do you want?"

"I want you to never take your hand away again," Kujaku pants, grabbing Yasha's wrist and holding it right where it is. "And… ah… kiss me again," he orders frantically, barely able to keep his eyes open with such sensations running amok.

Yasha does, and for a guy who's never done anything with another man before, he's pretty good at this. Well, that makes sense, since he's a man too, after all. Soon Kujaku's gasping and groaning, thrusting and panting, as Yasha makes pleased little noises and visualizes every tiny sound he hears. Yes, yes, he knows these sounds, the slide of a hand on a man's sex, the little moans people make as they get closer and closer to climax.

Then, not too much later, he hears a desperate, "Yasha… I'm… I'm gonna –"

"Yes, do it," Yasha says urgently. "Don't worry about the mess. I want to feel you come for me!"

"Nngh… ah – AAAHH!" Kujaku cries in ecstasy, and Yasha can feel his sex jerk in his hand before warm liquid lands on it, and the bottom half of Yasha's shirt. Kujaku groans again and comes some more, his head thrown back and his hips desperately thrusting into Yasha's hand, his own hands splayed against the wall to steady himself.

Oh, it's so glorious. Oh, it feels a hundred times better than his own hand and memories. Oh, he wishes this rapture would last forever. And oh no, it's ending, and his knees are so weak he almost collapses, but Yasha steadies him with a small, contented noise. And with Kujaku's body pressed against Yasha's, he can tell that Yasha's pretty darn hard too.

But right now, there is nothing he can do about that. Right now, he's too busy trying to collect his thoughts into a semblance of order. He missed orgasms with Yasha, he never knew how much until this one burst upon him with all its glory. They are richer, stronger, longer, and amazingly binding. Now that he's climaxed in Yasha's hand, they can never go back from this. Even if Yasha wants to, Kujaku won't let him! They're destined lovers, and surely destined lovers can never break apart.

…But Bishamonten and Kisshouten did…

"Well wasn't that fun?" Yasha asks in a proud voice, but one that has a note of urgent lust mixed in it too. "I wish with all my heart that I had been able to see that. Imagining it isn't the same, you know."

"Yeah… yeah I… know," Kujaku gasps out, leaning his head onto Yasha's shoulder. "Thanks. Thanks a _lot_, and I mean that in a fully sincere way."

"You're welcome. So, um, Kujaku, I… well, I'm still kind of –"

"I'm on the job," Kujaku says firmly, suddenly filled with the burning need to repay Yasha such pleasure. He gets down on his knees, and tells him, "Okay, I'm gonna blow you. You've had women do this, right?"

"Yes. Once or twice. I never really, you know, dated for the sake of sex," Yasha explains a bit awkwardly, as Kujaku maneuvers him so he's leaning back against the counter. "To be totally honest I'm far from an expert at heterosexual acts."

Kujaku is beaming at that, then replies with much enthusiasm, "Well, you can learn to be an expert at homosexual acts! But first, you just lean back and let your good pal Ku show you what _he's _good at," he practically purrs as he undoes Yasha's belt and pants.

_Hi, most intimate part of Yasha's anatomy! _he sings in his head. _I missed you like crazy. Yup, you look just like I remembered you! I know you don't remember me yet, but don't worry old buddy, it'll come in time. Let's see… if I recall correctly, you like when I do this._

He leans forward and swirls his tongue around the head, making Yasha groan happily as Kujaku smiles as best he can. Yup, that trick was one of Tenkai Yasha's favorites. The shorter man lets his tongue go where it wants to, picking up on which places Yasha likes the best, and boy, he's not just focusing on the shaft, oh no. Nope, that's one of the marks of a good fellator – whether or not they know how to work the balls. Kujaku does! And Yasha _likes it_.

_Oh gods, _the writer thinks as his breathing gets harsher. _He's amazing at this. I… this is just amazing, period, that it's Kujaku with his mouth on my sex. I think I just checked into Heaven._

Nope, he was just in the lobby, actually. He _really _checks into Heaven when he feels warm, wet suction enclose the tip, and incredibly, go all the way down. It's too much not to respond to, and he starts to thrust his hips, gently but still moving. He _wants _to go crazy, but he's not that far gone, not yet.

_Uh-huh, that's right, _Kujaku thinks proudly as he bobs his head._ You like it, and what man __wouldn't__, honestly? And… I like doing it to you, Yasha. I love making you happy, and fair's fair, isn't it? You brought me pleasure, I bring you pleasure, and – Whoa, ow! No hair-pulling!_

He makes a small, pained noise, and Yasha comes to his senses. He lets him go and gasps, "Sorry! I'm sorry. I won't do that again, really. It's just… ah yes… it's so good. You're… you must have done this many times before…"

_Well, yes and no, Yasha, _Kujaku thinks wryly. _Not here, not with another guy. But if I tell you, "Hey, I was your gay lover in a land far, far away, and we learned together," you might very well think I'm nuts, because I haven't seen any signs of remembrance yet._

Yasha, completely oblivious to that, gasps and tries not to thrust too hard. And he hasn't pounded Kujaku's head down on him, like some men will. Vaguely, in the unaroused corner of his mind, he realizes that Kujaku will have to teach him how to do this, because he only knows the fellatio recipient's side. Well, he'll learn, and – ahh, that's too splendid…

Soon Yasha's close to climax too, groaning and gasping and unable to stop from thrusting hard, but good news, Kujaku can handle that. This is actually a lot better than the first time they tried this in Tenkai, because Yasha went nuts and Kujaku choked to the point of throwing up. But _this_, this is good both for Yasha and Kujaku, because pleasing Yasha is something Kujaku will never get tired of. Making that stern and straight-laced man become a desperate, horny, needy being never gets old, and Kujaku missed it so very much.

_C'mon, baby, _he urges in his head as he sucks and fondles desperately. _C'mon, come for Ku. I want it, I reeeally –_

"Ku– jaku," Yasha gasps out harshly, red-faced and quivering with pleasure, "I'm go– NGHHYAAAH!"

His warning is choked off by his cry of release, but Kujaku knew it was coming. Unfortunately he can't really taste much with the head far down his throat, so he pulls back so he can catch some in his mouth too. Oh boy, he loves this stuff! Yummy, he thinks proudly as Yasha thrusts and groans and basically feels far better than he ever has before in his life.

But the sublime occurrence fades away, as all occurrences do, sublime or not. Like his partner Yasha almost collapses, but he's able to catch himself on the counter, and of course Kujaku steadies him too. The smaller man pulls off and stands up, stroking Yasha's face as he whispers, "You okay?"

"I am… I am _more _than okay," Yasha breathes in gratitude, his face still flushed and his body trembling. "Where did you learn to do that? It was, without a doubt, the absolute best sex act I've ever been a part of."

"I learned from a guy I really loved," Kujaku answers with a shrug, telling the truth and yet obscuring it. "Technically, we figured it out together, but who's keeping track?"

"Ah," Yasha replies, suddenly feeling incredibly jealous and possessive. But he rallies and asks, "Why did you break up with him?"

Whoa, hard question! Obviously saying, "Well see, I committed suicide to bring his kid back to life, because I loved them both so much and he was so sad without him, but wouldn't you know it, he happens to be standing here in front of me now!" won't work, so Kujaku, excellent liar that he is, comes up with a better response.

He pats Yasha's shoulder with a sighed, "Oh, that's still a sore spot. But it doesn't matter, because I've got _you _now. I do, don't I?"

"Of course you do," Yasha assures him, firm and a bit annoyed that Kujaku thought he had to ask that. "I told you I'm in love with you, didn't I? I'm not one of those people who does things with anyone they merely desire, honestly. No, you're my lover now."

"Cool. I got a boyyyfriend!" Kujaku sings, being extra goofy in his glee. "He loooves me! I looove him! Sing along, Yasha, c'mon."

"I don't want to sing right now," Yasha grouches, his mouth turning down into a frown. "Must you be so immature all the time? Sometimes I think you must have had either a ridiculously good or ridiculously bad childhood for you to be so silly so constantly."

"Bad. Really, really bad," Kujaku mutters darkly, his happy mood gone.

Sure his childhood _here _was good, but he never really viewed Mr. and Mrs. Karasu as real parents. After all, any baby who has the mind of a nine-hundred-and-six-year-old god, who couldn't wait to start his mission, kind of misses out on the bonding that reading storybooks and incessant baby talk entails. He used to get so bored it was criminal, stuck in his crib with only a blankie, a teddy bear, and a mobile above his head for company.

And it had _sucked _to have to pretend to be a little kid and act dumb and do "cute" things, when he wanted to scream, "Grandma, I don't want another overly sugary cookie! I want you to let me out of the stroller, because I'm frickin' four already, and I wanna see who's here and if I can pair 'em up yet!"

"Your childhood was bad?" comes Yasha's hesitant question, dispelling Kujaku's memories of wanting to melt Grandma Karasu's face off like Aizenmiyou (er, the demon with Aizenmiyou's appearance). "I'm so sorry. I was trying to make a joke, I didn't mean –"

"Nah, don't worry about it," Kujaku passes it off with a smile, tugging a strand of his man's hair, and boy is it great to think of him like that again. "You didn't know. And that's all behind me now. So… I'm gonna go home now and, um, brush my teeth. And then I'll come back, if you want me to!" he hastily adds.

"Yes," Yasha says almost guiltily. "Yes, you probably want to get that taste out of your mouth. Sorry."

"Don't be _sorry_," the other man insists. "It was my idea, I knew what would happen. And I've got a confession to make here: you taste good. I don't mind it at all, but just from an oral hygiene perspective, it's best if I brush my teeth."

Yasha simply stands there with his mouth hanging open for a couple moments, surprised again. But really, he thinks then, is this so odd? Many women like that taste, why should a man who likes men be any different? And to be truly honest, he did once try some of his own out of pure curiosity, and it wasn't actually bad. Not really good, but not _bad_. So he reaches out, takes hold of Kujaku's face on either side, and brings their mouths together again.

_Kinky, _Kujaku can't help but think as Yasha's tongue meets his. _Oh wow. Now I'm getting all sorts of visions in my head that involve you doing what I did, and me doing what you just did, and before my mind wanders off into a land of gay porn, I'm gonna focus on the fact that you told me you love me._

Everything's been worth it. _Everything_, every painful or boring or dangerous experience he went through in Tenkai and here_. _Yasha loves Kujaku again! Right now it feels like nothing can ever be wrong from this moment on, even though Kujaku's logical mind knows that of course things will be wrong in the future.

This is not a fairytale, and they haven't killed any monsters yet anyway. Happy endings can never be happy all the time… but it feels like this one will, now. All Kujaku needs for "And they lived happily ever after" is to have Yasha remember, and surely that's coming.

When they draw back, Kujaku gets another little thrill as Yasha licks his lips, then murmurs, "Not too bad. Perhaps I'll come to like it too."

Kujaku starts to say, "Sounds like a plan," as he steps back. But he slips on his own seed and his "Sounds" comes out as "Sowhoooa!" as he clutches at Yasha, almost yanking him off-balance but luckily Yasha grabs the counter. As Yasha asks in concern, "What happened?" Kujaku can't help but laugh. Ha, wouldn't that be just his luck, if he gave one of them a concussion after an experience like that?

"I slipped on some semen," he hastens to explain, and Yasha's perplexed expression changes to an amused expression. "Let me clean it up before we crack our heads open."

"Yes. I hadn't really thought about that in the heat of the moment," the long-haired man admits as his lover wets a rag.

"Your shirt's ruined," said lover sighs dismally as he wipes the floor. "That stuff stains, and it's a brown shirt. I hope it wasn't expensive, or your favorite."

"No, on both counts. I have another one very much like it," Yasha says easily, which makes Kujaku feel relieved. "But next time, I should remember to take my shirt off for sexual activities. I don't think you'll mind too much," he smirks with waggled eyebrows, and Kujaku enthusiastically assents.

With the rag soaking in the sink, with his pants zipped up, with Yasha holding his hand, Kujaku walks to the door in a euphoric daze. He's going to dash down the hallway, change like a theater actor between scenes, dash back, and then he and Yasha can snuggle on the couch. Or maybe they'll put their new experiences to good use with The Rain Is Warm, but either way, Kujaku won't be gone for long.

"Bye baby," he grins after he gives Yasha a quick peck on the cheek. "Wait right here, don't go away!"

"You don't need to worry about _that_."

Kujaku grins some more, passing through the door and running off, filled to the brim with excitement and love. And Yasha is, while not filled quite that high, pretty happy too. It's always good to have your love returned, and while he was ninety percent sure he would get the response that he did, it's still a relief.

"I think I could get used to this," he tells his living room with a contented little smile. "It's different, but it's good in an entirely new way."

_._

_._

(AN: "_Mais oui_" means something like "YES!" or "but of course" in French; it's basically "yes" but with more emphasis. In case you've forgotten, "Karasu" means "crow" in Japanese. "Hogo-sha" means "guardian."

So that was the first time I wrote fellatio or a handjob in detail, and hopefully it was vague enough not to scar your little minds. Constructive criticism would be much appreciated, as my complete inexperience with sex is not going to change.

On a Tentei [I know that's not really his name, shush] and Sonsei note: I find it pretty hard to swallow how the royal stargazer could just be made to disappear with her kid. People had to have wondered where she was, and they had to have noticed her pregnancy, and wondered who the daddy was unless she was married – and if she was, you'd think hubby would've demanded a body and a baby's body.

Also, two people committing an unforgivable sin getting away unmarked with a third eye, but the innocent result of incest being cursed with it, doesn't add up. After all, Taishie's opens up right away, and if they hadn't had a kid, they still would've committed incest. Then there's the whole Yama Sword thing that I already discussed. I honestly think CLAMP decided late in production to do it so Tentei would look bad in comparison to their beloved Taishakuten, and I can't be the only one who noticed how Tai suddenly looks "better" at the same time Tentei suddenly looks awful. Although honestly, locking your kid and sister up with apparently adequate food is less evil than killing tribe after tribe after tribe, not to mention three innocent, likable characters that we see.

Plus, you'd think matricide would be an unforgivable sin too, but Ashura gets away unscathed. He's always the special snowflake exception, isn't he?)


	19. A Locked Mind

**Chapter Eighteen: A Locked Mind**

(AN: Good news, yaoi fans… _two _Yakuja lemons, and I'm pleased to say the roles aren't the same in both. I hate yaoi where one character is always on top. Actually, I dislike het where the guy's always on top too.)

.

.

" 'He pressed his hands against the wall, the rough brick a welcome sensation to let him know that yes, he was still alive. For all his heart had been figuratively torn from his chest, it still beat, a thudding tattoo that – that…' suggestions, Kujaku?" Yasha invites seriously, tapping his fingertips together.

Kujaku thinks for a while, then ventures, "That said with every beat, 'It didn't kill me'?"

"Maybe. But taken all together, it seems a bit overwrought, don't you think?" Yasha sighs in resignation, and runs a hand through his hair. "And I don't like using the word 'beat' twice so close together. But put it in, and we'll just let that scene sit for a while. Let's skip ahead to the pool with Hinata scene."

"As you command, boss."

It's been a month since their sex acts against the wall. In that time, there have been other sex acts not against a wall, but not the big one. They're sort of skirting it, still in the "new love" stage, and that's fine with Kujaku, for now. Heck, they went out to fancy dinners and Yasha even made himself dance some more, which as one might expect was much more fun with a lover than a pushy assistant. Yasha is opening up, and Kujaku is learning things about him he never would have suspected, like the fact that Yasha has a secret fear of fire.

"It makes noise, so I can't hear where other things are," he explained in a bit of an ashamed voice. "It disrupts things, so I might be heading into unfamiliar territory when I flee it. It produces smoke, which makes it hard to breathe and thus I start to panic and not think clearly. And it's so destructive, it can level a house in mere minutes. I despise fire, I never liked it even when I was a child."

_If you hated it in Tenkai, you were even braver going up against all those fire-breathing demons and Aguni, _Kujaku thought with new respect, and replied, "Fire really is freaky, when you look at it. And yeah, it's devastating too. Don't be ashamed of being scared of fire, Yasha, because it doesn't seem to debilitate you."

"No, but it still scares me every time I use the stove. Which is why I often don't," Yasha admitted with a sigh. "Microwaves aren't scary to me in the least."

And Yasha has learned things about Kujaku too, things the stargazer has never told anyone else before: he jokes around so much because there were only depressing things when he was young (he doesn't tell Yasha he was born of incest and locked in a cave for over a hundred years, of course). He likes crows because crows were his first actual friends. He wishes he didn't have such a beautiful face, "Because people automatically think I'm a weenie with a face like this, even though my hair's short." And he hates men who treat women like trash… three guesses why, and the first two don't count.

For now, their relationship is known only to one other person save Kisshouten and Tenou, and he's been told nothing sexual has happened. Yes, Rasetsu is aware of this, and while he was certainly surprised by his brother's homosexuality, the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Rasetsu doesn't want to dwell on what it entails, and there's a sort of guarded formality around Kujaku now, but he took it much, much better than Yasha thought he would.

Yasha and Kujaku write for a while, get stuck on one scene, skip to yet another, and finish that one up quite nicely. By now it's dinner time, so Kujaku cooks while Yasha does some more dictation. The shorter man is so proud of how domestic he is, and when Yasha compliments his tonkatsu, Kujaku beams and literally pats himself on the back. He can fry up tasty piggies with the best of 'em!

Once dinner is cleared away, Kujaku starts to head to the door with a casual, "Well, if it's okay with you, I'll see you tomorrow."

Yasha's slightly nervous words stop him in his tracks: "Actually, Kujaku, I'd rather you stay. All night."

Kujaku turns slowly to look at Yasha, his heart pounding and his brain on overdrive. Yasha wants to go all the way, and for some strange reason the stargazer thinks that they should wait until he _remembers_. Oh yeah, outercourse is all well and good, but intercourse… it means something, to them at least. Kujaku wants Yasha to be as fully a part of it as he is, knowing exactly who they are, and recalling all those times they lay together in front of comatose Ashura – which was kinda weird at first but soon they got over it.

But… how many went to bed before they realized who they are? Kumaraten and Kahra hopped between the sheets after meeting again only an hour before, Aguni and Koumokuten must have slept together a hundred times before they knew, and Shashi and Bishamonten were giving them a run for their money in the sex department. So why not Kujaku and Yasha? Maybe it will make him see…

"Yasha, I think that's the best idea you've ever had!" Kujaku says brightly. "If, you see, we have the needed supplies, like condoms and lubricant. Do you have those? I do have some protection back at my place, so if we decide I should be on top I can just go get it."

"Yes, I have both of those," Yasha answers a little awkwardly. "We should figure out who's going to be on top now, so we're not fighting over it in the heat of the moment."

"Well, um, since I know what to do, I think it's best, for this first time, if I'm dominant," Kujaku tells him, and he speaks the truth. "You're perfectly welcome to take charge the next three times, but let me show you how it works, okay?"

"All right," Yasha replies, trying to calm his nerves with Kujaku's rational point. "I do have some lubricant here, but you should go get that condom now, I think. No, wait, before you go, help me find some painkillers, okay? I'll take them right now so they'll kick in faster."

Yasha's so smart, Kujaku thinks proudly. A lot of people go, "Yay, I'm going to lose my virginity, maybe it'll hurt a little but I'll like it soon enough!" and later regret that oversight. And as Yasha pops two extra-strength acetaminophens, Kujaku gallops back to his apartment, snatches the condom with a giant grin on his face, and makes himself walk back at a normal pace. Just because he's getting something he's wanted for forty-three years, and abstained from doing with anyone else, doesn't mean he should get people mad enough to come out and yell at him.

"Okay, I've got it!" he calls as he locks the door. "You ready?"

"I think so. I hope so," Yasha quietly murmurs as he takes Kujaku's hand and leads him into the bedroom. "I have to tell you that I'm quite nervous, even though I want this so much."

"Hey, totally normal," Kujaku assures him as he shuts the bedroom door. "Would it help to have some soothing music?"

"…No," Yasha decides after thinking on it. "Sometimes soothing music just annoys me, honestly. But give me your assurance you'll go slow, you'll be gentle, and you'll make it good."

"Yes, yes, and yes," Kujaku solemnly swears, going so far as to put a hand over his heart. "But one question: have you, y'know, played around with penetration on your own? Like with a toy? That makes a big difference."

Yasha shakes his head, admitting, "No, that never actually occurred to me. But now that you've said it, I feel quite foolish because of course that would make a difference. Well, I mean, I used my fingers now and again, but it wasn't particularly pleasant once they actually got inside."

"Well, you gotta be careful with it," Kujaku breathes against Yasha's lips, as his hands start to unbutton his shirt. "That's a sensitive body part, baby! You can't just go right to town, I know this from experience. So that's not what I'm gonna do, don't worry."

Soon they've fallen back on the bed, touching and caressing, because foreplay is important for everybody. Yasha's actually on top for now, and that's perfectly fine. His sunglasses set carefully on the nightstand and his eyes closed, he pulls Kujaku's shirt over his head quite impatiently, for all his apprehension of what's coming. That's Yasha – if he's scared of something, he confronts it head-on to conquer his fear. He can't very well do that with fire, but with sex he will take what control he can, for now at least.

"I like your body," he purrs as he runs his hands over Kujaku's pecs and down towards his navel. "You take excellent care of yourself."

"Yeah. And you already know how much I appreciate you doing the same," Kujaku grins, his fingers running over some mighty chiseled abs. "Muscles muscles muscles! I'm in beefcake heaven with you."

Yasha is pleased to hear this, and makes a small noise of agreement before his mouth is too busy kissing Kujaku's neck. Heh-heh, yes, this is one of Kujaku's most sensitive spots, right where the jawline meets the neck near the ear. The stargazer groans aloud in happiness, burying his fingers in the long strands he so loves, arching into Yasha's mouth and starting to get hard already, just from this.

"Hey," he whispers as Yasha removes his mouth, having left a wet red mark, "you're really getting expert at what I like."

"Not compared to what you can do to me," Yasha murmurs with a shrug, undoing Kujaku's belt. "Sometimes I think you know my body better than I do."

As his pants are tossed over Yasha's shoulder to the floor, Kujaku chuckles and pats his cheek, replying, "I've just got a good memory." Which again is true, but not the whole truth.

But ah well, this is good. Kujaku even gets to explore the front of Yasha's entire torso with his tongue, and Yasha gets to do the same to him. Yes, it's so nice, it's so _very _nice. This puts Yasha more at ease, such comforting, familiar movements, and by the time they break out the lube he feels much more relaxed. Not _completely _relaxed, of course not that, but far better than before.

"Okay, this is gonna be cold," Kujaku warns him as he squeezes some onto his fingers. "But it warms up from your body heat pretty fast. Try to relax, please."

Yasha does try to relax, but AAAAH! Geez, that doesn't do anything to put him in the mood, feeling something cold and wet right against his entrance. Arousal starts to dim, even as Kujaku begins to gently massage the area. No penetration yet, and this helps to loosen it.

"I'm gonna _slowly _and _gently _slide _one finger_ inside, okay?" he whispers soothingly after a minute, and Yasha mutters, "Okay. It's still cold."

"I know. I'm sorry."

And Kujaku does slowly and gently slide one finger inside, half-centimeter by half-centimeter, and this honestly isn't so bad. It's not _great _by any means, but it feels much nicer than when Yasha tried it. After a while Kujaku's added a second finger, stretching and scissoring, then a third, until finally he judges that he's done all he can do. Yasha's definitely looser, but it's still going to be painful even with all this.

"How are you doing?" Kujaku asks him as he slowly starts to withdraw his fingers, and the taller man sighs, "Pretty well. That actually felt rather nice."

"Awesome. I'm putting on the condom, then I'll apply the lube to myself," Kujaku makes sure to tell him, and yup, that stuff is cold.

But he makes sure to coat every centimeter even though he probably won't be going all the way in, just in case. Even with the coldness the stroking motions get him even harder, and he's practically quivering with anticipation. Playing around with Yasha is fun, and he's relieved that Yasha liked it too.

"Okay," he whispers, getting himself into position with one hand gripping Yasha's hip. "There are three things you need to do: relax, breathe, and be prepared for pain. But you can do it!" he encourages in suddenly peppy tones, like a cheerleader or something.

Yasha quirks an eyebrow even as his heart rate speeds up, and mutters a bit resignedly, "Yes yes, thank you Mr. Motivational Sex Speaker. And what are the three things _you _need to do?"

Kujaku flashes him a grin and recites, "Go slowly, go gently, and… uh… go slowly!"

"Two for three. The third one was 'listen to what I tell you to do.' I know my own pain threshold, so when I need you to stop or go just slower, that's what you have to do," Yasha says with the utmost seriousness, tipping his head back in an unconscious surrender motion, with the bared throat and all.

Yes. Hogosha Yasha is, for once, at another being's mercy. It's a frightening prospect, and it hits him like a bolt of lightning that he has no way of stopping Kujaku if Kujaku were to suddenly go gay porn star on him, slamming in and rutting so hard blood splashes the sheets. But Kujaku _won't _do that, Yasha knows that as well as he knows his own name, because Kujaku loves him. So as penetration begins, Yasha holds on to that as his lover tries to hold on to his composure.

_Ohhhh _gods… this feels even better than he remembered. Tight, warm, thankfully slick due to the lube, and it's _Yasha's _body Kujaku's inside, which makes it a thousand times better than anyone else's. The shorter man's instinct is to just slam all the way in and go to town, but he won't do that because it would hurt Yasha like hell, and that's the last thing he wants to do. So he holds still, perfectly still, hoping that this will help. But Yasha's face is strained, and his hands are gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles are white.

"Does it hurt?" Kujaku asks anxiously, needlessly; of course it hurts, how can it not?

"Yes," Yasha grits, but then continues with, "and if you stop and pull out, I will smack you upside the head and make you eat Brussels sprouts."

The sudden humor, so unlike Yasha and so like Kujaku, makes them both laugh hysterically, even as Yasha winces a bit. But it helps, it eases the tension and lightens the serious mood. And it reassures Kujaku that he's in no way taking advantage of the other man. See, it's all good!

"Relax some more, okay?" he urges, petting Yasha's abs. "The more you tense up, the tighter your muscles get and the more it hurts. Want me to hum a soothing song? Or should I do some guided visualization exercises, where I tell you you're on a beach or something? Or would it be more helpful if I just shut up?" he asks a bit self-deprecatingly.

"No, don't be quiet. Say soothing things in a calm voice," Yasha decides, then adds, "The pain won't last forever, everybody says that so it must be true, right?"

"Well, yes and no," Kujaku croons as he goes a little farther. "If the guy on top isn't gentle or doesn't know what he's doing, yeah, it can hurt the whole time. But believe me, it's gonna be fine for you, 'cause I'm gonna use every trick I know to make this good once the initial discomfort is over."

"I know. I trust you, Kujaku. I love you."

"Just riiiiide it out," Kujaku whispers encouragingly, going farther still. "_Gooood joooob_, Yasha. Breathe, just _breeeathe_, and try to remember how much I love you too."

Yasha is about to say, "That's not far from my mind," but can only emit a wordless gasp, startled by the sudden burst of pleasurable sensation deep inside. Kujaku's just nudged against his prostate, and wow, Yasha's never felt anything like _that _before! It's sort of like penile or testicular stimulation and sort of _not; _it's definitely a sexual sensation, but it's different in a way even the award-winning writer can't describe right now.

"Looks like I hit that magical spot," Kujaku grins proudly, going a little farther. "Go ahead, tell me how nice it is."

"It's – it's _very – _no, _astoundingly _nice," Yasha gasps out, awed and relieved. "If you're hitting that once you get to the thrusting, I shouldn't have to worry about climaxing at all."

"Hey, look far in I am!" Kujaku chirps, then sheepishly amends, "Figure of speech again. I'm more than halfway inside you. Keep relaxing, we'll see if we can't fit more of this baby in your sexy, desirable, yummy body."

And miracle of miracles… Yasha can take all of it. Kujaku's at once surprised and not surprised, given Tenkai. But then again it took a while for them to figure out how to do it well, so total penetration wasn't possible the first few times they slept together. But now, ah _now _Kujaku has many years of experience to draw on, and by golly, it's paid off. Patience and a soft approach will work wonders, apparently.

"I _loooove _it," he sings softly and a bit breathlessly. "Oh man, Yasha, this is super special awesome. How's it feel for you right now?"

"Not super special awesome, but pretty good. Pretty _darn _good," Yasha pants in a bit of a marveling tone, then adds, "You can start thrusting again, just keep going slowly."

Yasha's wish is Kujaku's command, one he is more than happy to follow. Moving back in forth inside Yasha, stroking Yasha's sex, finally connected again after years and years and years, hearing Yasha make little happy noises and occasionally say hot things… he could stay like this forever. Well, okay, not _exactly _like this, because he really would like to get off, but there's time for that. Drawing it out makes the conclusion all the sweeter, all the _stronger_, and that's even more true for Yasha.

"This is amazing," Yasha tells him in a gasp. "I – I never knew it could be like this."

"Yeah, that's how I felt the first time I did it," Kujaku responds with a grin. "I was like, 'Hot damn, I really _can _feel pleasure with something hard up my ass!' It just seems so counterintuitive, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Very. Ahhhh… go faster!"

Kujaku does, going a little harder too, and soon Yasha's unable to form coherent sentences. Kujaku is in the same boat, desperately holding himself back from going too hard and too fast, feeling his climax stalk closer and closer. By now he's bent fully over the taller man, Yasha's arms squeezing him tightly and both of them dripping with sweat. Being fucked is the best thing that's ever happened to Yasha, and if he had rational thoughts to spare, he might make a mental note to write how this feels down to use it in truncated form for the novel.

"Kujaku…" he groans, grinding up against him, "Kujaku, I – I'm almost – I'm going to –"

Kujaku, ecstatic that Yasha is almost there, urges him on with sentences his mother's ears would turn blue at. And such words provide extra stimulation, so much that soon Yasha can't hold it in anymore. Screaming in pleasure, he has the biggest, most wonderful orgasm of his entire life (so far!), his body clenching around Kujaku and his seed suddenly slick between them.

And that's all Kujaku needs, _more _than Kujaku needs for his own climax to begin. Like Yasha this is the best one he's had in this life, a hundred times better than jerking off, there's no comparison. Even with the condom! It would of course have been even better bareback, but as soon as Yasha's STD test results come back, they can hopefully screw as nature intended. For now, Kujaku doesn't mind very much, because finally he's coming inside Yasha again.

Their movements slow, end, and they pant for breath, pressed together and covered in sweat and Yasha's seed. For long minutes that's all they do, just hold each other and breathe with their eyes closed, trying to come to grips with how wonderful that was. But eventually Kujaku opens his eyes and raises his head, stroking Yasha's bangs out of his eyes with a satisfied hand.

"That was great," Kujaku says quietly, and with a huge grin. "That was _awesome_, actually."

"That was stupendously earth-shattering," the author corrects, still a bit out of breath. "My gods… Kujaku, we should do this every night, I'm not joking."

"Works for me! I'm gonna pull out now, okay?" the purple-eyed man asks seriously.

"Go ahead."

Kujaku does, disposing of the condom in that handy little trash can Yasha has in the corner. He walks back with legs that are shaking only a little, then climbs back into bed with his partner, snuggling in as Yasha sighs happily. They just lie there for a while, contented and companionable, until finally Kujaku pulls the sheet up because he's getting cold.

"You know," Yasha muses into the silence, "now I fully realize why so many people will do dumb stuff for sex. I never liked it all that much with women, and to be totally honest, Kujaku, I thought gay sex couldn't be _that _different. But I'm very pleased to be proven wrong."

Kujaku, feeling reckless, cheerfully replies, "Yeah, it's a whole different ballgame. Hey Yasha… can I say something crazy?"

"You can say it, but I might not believe it or rise to your bait," is Yasha's placid response.

Bad sign, but Kujaku plows ahead with, "What if I told you you and I are reincarnated lovers, and we were gods in a place far from here?"

"Be serious," Yasha mutters in irritation, frowning a bit. "You've been watching too many movies. Reincarnation doesn't exist, and even if it did, we wouldn't remember our past lives according to all the priests and monks I've known."

Now feeling indescribably hurt, Kujaku covers it up like he always does with a jolly mask. He chuckles and slaps Yasha's chest, responding with, "I was just messing with you. I know that very well. It's just, you know, maybe we _are _reincarnated lovers, though, and we just don't know it?"

"I'm more willing to believe that than the other one," Yasha grudgingly admits, then gives Kujaku a kiss on the forehead before he murmurs, "But I'm tired, Kujaku. I'm surprised you're not, because you did all the work. Or do you just get used to it?"

"You get used to it," Kujaku yawns, and from there it's just pillow talk, sweet nothings and reminiscences, until Yasha falls into a contented slumber and Kujaku stares at him in disappointment.

It's as if… as if Yasha's mind is locked, fortified far beyond that of all the rest. All of them had dreams and visions and memories, and Yasha has none of that. Not a single hint of Tenkai has come from Yasha's lips to Kujaku's ears, and he's willing to bet that none have popped up in the writer's thoughts. He would have mentioned them lightheartedly, like, "Ha, isn't that weird, what I was thinking?" He probably would have gotten inspired by them, most likely penning a short story about a warrior king whose people were slaughtered because he took in a small child. Or maybe he'd even turn it into a novel.

Kujaku hits on something then: the blindness is Yasha's punishment, and Yasha's complete lack of memory is _his._

It's unfair, so very unfair, because he never asked to be born of an incestuous union! Or perhaps it was the creation of the Yama Sword, pushing Yasha and Ashura together, always telling Yasha he was Ashura's "daddy"… the successful attempt to alter cruel Fate.

So Yasha must be like Karyoubinga, like Tamara, Parvati, Lord Ashura, who still eludes Taishakuten and maybe always will, with no memory of Tenkai. Just Hogosha Yasha… a blind man with insights into the world and the exact same strength of character Kujaku loved on another plane. The suspicious ally turned friend turned lover all over again, but he wants him to _know,_ because this knowledge is a burden to bear alone.

He sighs, closing his eyes. So the Bhagavaana spoke the literal truth: **"You will **_**see**_** Yasha again."** Not, **"You will find Yasha and make him remember."**

But it's still love. He may not be _Lord _Yasha, but he's still Yasha. Same deep voice, same beautiful soul, same long chocolate hair and midnight-blue eyes. Same glorious body, Kujaku knows it well. The same tiny, genuine smile and the same friendship for a wanderer. The same personality, grumpy and seemingly with very few emotions, but once you get past the shell you see a man with fears and hopes and quirks, just like everybody else.

"I guess this will have to be enough," Kujaku whispers into the silence, stroking Yasha's hair. "I mean, truly, at least I have you this way, which is a zillion times better than if I didn't."

.

Yasha wakes up the next morning far later than he usually does, but hey, he usually wasn't up late being boinked by his bishounen boyfriend, after all. Kujaku's breathing is steady and deep, and he has a possessive arm thrown over Yasha so he can tell they're facing each other. Well, actually, he could tell that already by Kujaku's warm breath in his face, and the way one of his partner's legs is tangled with his. For a moment Yasha just savors this perfect moment, unwilling to make any sudden movements even though he does have to use the bathroom.

He becomes aware then that his ass hurts, externally and internally, a dull throbbing aches that makes him dread sitting down. Well, perhaps he can just stand and lie down today. But it's worth it, isn't it? He gave his male/male virginity to Kujaku, the man he loves, and Kujaku made it far better than Yasha could have dreamed of, far better than sleeping with women ever was. It was a life-changing experience Yasha was awed by, and he wants _more –_ just not right now, obviously.

He reaches out a hand and feels Kujaku's face with fond, tender movements, as always thinking that the smaller man _can't _be older than him. He seems twenty-five, not forty-three, and again Yasha wonders if Kujaku is just joking around with his supposed age. Oh, he's _wise _underneath the goofiness, but his eyes are bigger than Yasha's are, his face is completely unlined, and he's so energetic. So if he is in fact forty-three, Yasha can only pray that he himself will age that miraculously well.

_We're sometimes an inversion of the stereotypical gay couple, aren't we? _he thinks as he strokes Kujaku's silky, wavy hair. _You're the pretty, shorter, more feminine one who's definitely more immature, and I'm the manly, taller, more macho one who's too serious most of the time. And yet, you're older and you're far more experienced than I am, you guide me around, and while I initiated our relationship and this sex, you took charge and made it wonderful for me. And you've certainly initiated a lot of outercourse too. You're a good teacher, and I'm an eager student._

_So in a nutshell… you can't put people into little labeled boxes. I knew that already, but you keep showing me all these examples to strengthen that conviction. And speaking of strength, I'll never forget the way you decked that jerk who tried to trip me, and knocked out three teeth, _Yasha thinks with a proud grin.

"I love you," he whispers aloud, hugging Kujaku tight. "You're the first person I actually loved, romantically. I pray with all my heart we won't fall apart, and will instead keep growing closer together."

"Grow like a beanstalk," Kujaku mutters in his three-fourths asleep, one-fourth awake state. "I'm gonna climb it to find the giant."

Yasha is unsure what to say to that, but comes up with, "What exactly are you dreaming?"

"Dreaming?"

Kujaku opens his eyes then, blinks a couple times to get his bearings, and seems to come to full wakefulness as he grins, "I was dreaming about gardens. Big, fancy, elaborate gardens, the type you can hide in and watch your sister from behind some bushes, while she never knows you're there."

"You have a sister?" Yasha asks in shocked surprise, and Kujaku happily confirms, "Yeah, I have a sister. Technically half-sister, it's a long story. Her name's Kisshouten! She's awesome, you'll love her and my brother-in-law too."

"Why didn't you _tell _me you have a sister?" Yasha demands bit hotly, suddenly worried that there are lots of other things Kujaku's not telling him.

Kujaku shrugs as best he can while lying down, and answers, "Because I just wanted to focus on _us_. I didn't wanna burden you with my family drama. See, Kissh and I only met about two years ago, because our dad came to hate my mom and never mentioned her or me to Kisshouten. She's younger than I am by a couple years, see. But I contacted her and she loves me, and I love her. In fact, I set her up with her cute little husband, the one who's younger than she is by eighteen years."

"So a fondness for younger men runs in the family?" Yasha smirks, and Kujaku smirks back, "Looks like it."

Silence for long, companionable moments as Kujaku just looks at Yasha and Yasha just gently touches Kujaku, until finally Kujaku whispers in concern, "How you doing, pain-wise? You okay, or do I need to go get you some more painkillers and make you breakfast in bed?"

"I'm sore, but please, no breakfast in bed. That's just _asking _for a mess," Yasha sighs a bit testily, and Kujaku pouts for a moment. Hmph, goodbye to that romantic gesture, apparently.

But he smiles anyway and comes up with, "Well, I can still make you breakfast and get you more painkillers. I like making meals for you!"

"And I like when you do it," Yasha assures him with a smile of his own, then kisses him for a long, long time.

And so it goes. They adjust to each other in the mornings, take sexy showers together, Kujaku makes breakfast and sometimes Yasha helps. He is introduced to Kisshouten and Tenou, again has no inkling that he should know them, and finds them to be pleasant, enjoyable people. Life goes on as winter continues, and hey, snuggling up together on the couch is what couples _do _in winter!

.

"Oh _yeah_ – fuck me harder!" Kujaku urges, on all fours with Yasha behind him. "Do it, do it! Aw c'mon Yasha, you can do better than – YEAH! Like _that!_" he cries in his aroused excitement, because now Yasha's going hard like he'll win a prize for it, or something.

Yes indeedy, by now they've gotten to the point were they can have mad animal sex and it won't hurt too much. Yay for practice! Practice makes perfect – or as near to perfect as humans can get, but right now, this feels like a one-hundred-percent score on the report card of sex.

Yasha's fully inside, fully hard, fully into this, and Kujaku matches him on the last two. Sometimes he thinks being fucked is better than doing the fucking, because you can be stimulated both internally and externally, as the writer is doing now. One hand grips Kujaku's left hip and pulls him closer, the other strokes his shaft, and it's so enjoyable that nothing else seems to exist in this world but the two of them.

This is divine, Yasha mentally sighs as Kujaku eagerly groans out his name. It's more… _animalistic_. Not for the first or last time, the long-haired man wishes he could see what's happening. Hell, he wishes he had a full-length mirror right in front of the bed so he could see it from two angles. Men generally respond to visuals during sex better than women, and he's really missing out, he thinks a bit longingly.

Oh well. He can feel it, maybe better than men with sight, and Kujaku always makes sure to tell him exactly what he wants and what _he's_ feeling. In fact, Yasha has the distinct sense that talking during sex turns Kujaku on. And right now…

"Yasha…! Ah! This is good," Kujaku pants out, sounding very excited. "I like it like this. Makes me feel like we're so desperate for each other, we don't have time for the tenderness."

"I thought you liked tenderness," his partner gasps. "I like it too, but I think I get what you're saying. It's more primitive, more lusty than loving, although of course there's that as well. In a – ahh – in a nutshell, it's fucking, not lovemaking. And I agree, it's fantastic like this."

"You've got a way with words," Kujaku tells him in a moan. "You wanna lose some of that refined vocabulary and tell me just what you wanna do?"

"All right then…"

As Yasha proceeds to verbalize profane and naughty sentiments, Kujaku can't help but think how much of an improvement this is over Tenkai sex. Yasha usually only said things like "Harder!" and "I'm going to come," even told him to stop being so loud, "And don't say that! You sound like a male whore. Why can't you just moan like I do?"

Yeah, this is _way _better. It's music to Kujaku's ears, and boy, Yasha says some pretty explicit things. So of course he has to try to one-up him, right? Gotta repay the guy with some equally arousing sentences, duh.

And so Kujaku too channels a gay porn star, panting things that would necessitate gratuitous use of the censorship button were this to be shown on TV (with shots probably only of their torsos and maybe hands). And if it were to be marketed as something like "The Peacock and the Author's Cock," it would be flying off the shelves. Yup, they're hot, they're gay, they speak sentences guaranteed to turn on the fan of homosexual male erotica.

"Yasha," Kujaku groans after a couple minutes, "you almost there?"

"I've been almost there for a while now," the other man groans in return. "And you?"

"Yeah. Yeah! Go harder, you studly sex god of – of _sexy studliness!_" Kujaku says happily, not caring at all how redundant and stupid that line was. They've reached the point where cleverness doesn't matter, just the sensations and the arousing words, and who cares if they'll realize how dumb they were later?

So Yasha does go harder, as hard as he can, wringing happy screams from Kujaku and happy grunts from Yasha. He can feel his climax churning beneath the surface, ready to explode out in three – two – _one –_

"Ohhh… oh – AH!" Yasha cries happily as he reaches his peak, his thrusts perhaps becoming a little too hard but hey, Kujaku's okay with that. He's also more than okay with the sensation of internal ejaculation, and thanks his lucky stars that Yasha tested negative for STDs so they can do this.

And when Yasha reaches down and strokes Kujaku's sex again, still thrusting albeit not as hard, that's all the older man needs to achieve a climax of his own. His orgasmic scream is so loud it makes the pigeons outside take off in a panic, and the neighbor on the right get a surprised and intrigued look on her face. Whiteness streaks onto the bed, quite a lot of it, and Yasha keeps right on pumping, coaxing everything he can from his lover's body.

Kujaku's arms tremble and give out, sending him almost face-first onto the bed but instinct makes him turn his head in time. Yasha, a little disoriented by such a sudden drop, asks breathlessly, "I did well, yes?"

"Ho boy yes," Kujaku pants in a thankful tone, raising himself enough to let Yasha pull his hand back. "A++ marks on that one, baby. You're the star pupil, let's put your picture on the honor wall."

"Oh yay, I'm the best," Yasha grins proudly, still inside his lover. "I like being the best."

Kujaku gaily replies, "I know you do. You're a perfectionist who loves to compete! Lemme guess, Yasha, you were always the little boy who was shouting, 'Race you to that tree!' and stuff like that. Me, I was always the little boy who was too enthralled by a bug or a rock to participate in everybody else's reindeer games."

Now Yasha frowns a bit, and feels the need to correct Kujaku with, "Actually _no_, I rarely challenged other kids. I accepted theirs every time, but I'm not the sort of person to brag about my prowess. I do like to be the best, but you won't see me hyping myself up on social media. In fact, I sort of hate having to promote myself, I thought you learned that with my latest TV interview."

Kujaku immediately agrees, "You're right. So, you gonna pull out now? I'm getting a little too sensitive."

As Yasha obeys, the former winged god thinks more on Tenkai Yasha. True, true, people would be all aflutter about him but he never sought it out, and when Souma told him what everybody said about his impressive abilities, he hastily changed the subject. He's modest, a quality Kujaku finds most attractive indeed. What a contrast between the actually amazing Yasha and that insufferable Vahyu. And Varuna, and Aguni, and Koumokuten. It appears that pride truly does goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.

Kujaku is wrapped up in Yasha's strong arms and heartily returns the favor, something nibbling at the back of his mind. Ah, here it is, come into the light… thinking of Yasha's humility yet awe-inspiring prowess has brought up the fight with Rasetsu, which Kujaku of course watched from the shadows. Hey, they haven't seen him for a while!

"Hey Yasha," Kujaku whispers, snuggling against that wonderfully broad chest, "why don't we hang with Rasetsu this weekend? It's gonna be warm, the weatherman says. It'll be nice for all three of us to get out into spring!"

"That sounds like a reasonable idea," Yasha agrees with a smile, snuggling closer as well. "But this time, please, don't sneak up behind him and shout, 'Boo!' "

"Okay, I won't. But you gotta admit his reaction was funny!"

.

Kujaku does refrain from sneaking up behind Rasetsu, albeit reluctantly because the younger Hogosha brother has the most amusing expressions. Instead they all meet at a little café, sitting outside in the sun. Rasetsu eats like a starving wolf, something Kujaku isn't surprised by and Yasha is perturbed by. Rasetsu's never been Mr. Manners, but he's usually not this frantic.

"Rasetsu," his brother finally ventures, "can you even _taste_ that food?"

"Og goursche I –" Rasetsu hastily swallows, then apologetically sighs, "Of course I can. Sorry. You know how I get when I'm under a lot of stress, Yasha. My job sucks right now, and my evil boss made me give her my cell phone number so she can call me at any time. Even at 3:00 in the morning! Evil bosses should be shot."

"And we should be able to stuff and mount them in our living rooms!" Kujaku chips in, making Yasha sigh and Rasetsu grin in agreement. "In threatening poses, like a bear or something."

"All right, knock it off," the fed-up Yasha growls, as Rasetsu guffaws at that mental vision. "Don't joke about murder like that."

"Whatever you say, oh captain," Kujaku grins cheekily, leaning his head against Yasha's shoulder. "We aim to please."

Rasetsu and Kujaku exchange "But I thought it was funny" smirks, then go back to eating. Kujaku is pleased by this, and honestly, he and Yasha's little bro do seem to be getting closer. Not _really _close, but better than before. And since Rasetsu still thinks Kujaku was tormented by his imaginary brother, he's making extra sure to be nice. Sometimes Kujaku is too much, but at least he can get him to laugh more often than not.

They chatter on for long minutes about the book, about Rasetsu's job, about the weather, and finally a leaf blows into Yasha's hair. Thinking nothing of it, Kujaku plucks it out with one hand and strokes said hair with the other.

Rasetsu cocks his head and studies them, then says slowly, "You've been intimate. I can tell."

_Only after months of us being intimate, Macho Man, _Kujaku thinks with a little mental snigger, then agrees, "Well, yeah. We love each other, y'know. And we're living in the twenty-first century, not the eighteenth."

"Are you ever gonna tell Mom and Dad?" Rasetsu directs at Yasha, with the desperate air of someone who's trying to distract himself from unwanted mental visions. "Or maybe do you want _me _to tell them, so they don't immediately go off on you and have some time to come to grips with it?"

"I still haven't decided," Yasha sighs glumly. "This is definitely something long-term and serious, and at the same time, I want to ease them into it more. Maybe I should bring Kujaku over as a friend, see how they react to him, and tell them later. What do you think, Kujaku?" he politely asks his lover.

Kujaku grins evilly, and as Rasetsu starts to look worried he purrs, "I think you should bring me over and _I'll _tell them everything. Well, okay, not _details_, but we're a couple and they'll just have to deal with it. If they really love you, they'll accept it, even though it'll take a while. If they disown you… they're horrible parents I don't want to be around at all."

"They're not _horrible_," Rasetsu desperately cuts in. "They're just older, set in their ways, and… okay, bigoted, but they're not going to disown Yasha! They'll tell him in no uncertain terms they don't approve, and they might very well forbid him from seeing you, but they're not gonna never speak to him again!"

"We need a show of solidarity from you," Yasha decides with a firm nod. "Not now, I want to wait a while, but soon. If Mom and Dad hear you say that you've accepted it, you still love me just the same, and they should too, that might start a shift in their attitudes. But Kujaku, given your… up-front personality and frequently demonstrated enjoyment of making people uncomfortable, I think it's best if Rasetsu and I do this alone."

Kujaku heaves a reluctant sigh but agrees, and soon Rasetsu has to go. But he hugs Yasha hard and claps Kujaku on the shoulder with a smile, then strides off like a man with a mission. But then he isn't the type to wander aimlessly, is he? Hey, but Kujaku's great at wandering aimlessly! He takes hold of Yasha's hand and lets his feet go wherever the street takes them, then stops at a certain enticing shop.

"Who wants ice cream?" he asks coaxingly. "I'll pay for it!"

Yasha thinks hard on this, then decides that he can easily work off a tiny cup of ice cream. It's not like he makes a habit of stuffing himself with sugar and empty calories, after all. He's still sort of amazed that Kujaku can eat so much of that stuff and stay in such wonderful shape, but he shelves the question and orders strawberry when he's at the counter. Kujaku gets caramel brownie, which does not amaze his partner in the least.

"I'm gonna feed this to you," Kujaku informs him with a grin, after they sit down. "Open up, Yasha!"

With a smile Yasha does open up, and Kujaku guides the spoon into his mouth. Mmmm, caramel brownie ice cream, not Yasha's favorite but still good. And the gesture, of course, means more than the flavor. Should he reciprocate? He can't aim very well, but maybe…

"If you help guide my hand," he suggests with another smile, "I would like to return the favor."

"Sure," Kujaku agrees brightly, and so Yasha scoops up some of the frozen strawberry treat, holds his hand out, and lets Kujaku maneuver his hand to his mouth. It's the best they can do, but it works.

They eat the rest of their ice cream like that, switching off bites, as some people don't care, some people seem disgusted, and some people seem pleased. But nobody says anything either way, and Yasha can't see any of their reactions, so Kujaku is loath to point the disapproving looks out. He pointedly ignores them instead, something he usually doesn't do, but with Yasha he's starting to settle down a bit. There are other ways of making your point than by pushing people's buttons, after all.

Yes… maybe Kujaku is finally maturing. It only took him nine hundred and forty-eight years.

Once they've dutifully disposed of their ice cream containers and spoons, Kujaku leads Yasha to a park. Ah, Nature! Nature is magical, he thinks contentedly as Yasha takes in a deep breath, able to tell where they are just by the scent of flowers and the drop in the noise level. And the smell of grass and dirt, too. Yes, this a park, and Yasha likes Nature just as much as Kujaku does.

As they walk, Kujaku does something he hasn't before. He slips his hand into Yasha's back pocket like he's done this a thousand times, saying nothing. It's a proprietary gesture, a silent, "This is _my _man, and I can touch his butt in public because he belongs to me! Neener-neener-_nee-_ner, don't you all just wanna smack me now in jealousy?"

Yasha tenses ever so slightly at that action, because it's a mite in-your-face. But he then decides that okay, if Kujaku wants to do something demonstrative like that, it's all right. Now, were the other man to start patting said butt in public he'd have to say something, but as it is, this is flattering in addition to being a bit startling.

So he says nothing, and loops his right arm around Kujaku's waist with a casual, "Lead the way, Mr. Karasu."

Kujaku does, meandering down the path as trees flower, bees buzz, and butterflies flutter all around. Cherry blossom petals are floating in the wind, their sweet scent is everywhere, and this is practically perfect. It seems like every other group of people they pass has one or more couples, because isn't this the stereotypical Japanese romance setting? In fact, off to the right he can see a man down on one knee, eagerly holding up an engagement ring to his excited girlfriend. D'awww. And over there, a group of sixteen-year-old girls paying more attention to him and Yasha than the "boring" heterosexual couple's life-changing moment.

"Ooh, Yasha, don't look now," Kujaku smirks as he nudges his side, "but this gaggle of teenage girls is staring and whispering with excited expressions on their faces. Isn't it great how liberal the young people of Japan are?"

"You know, Kujaku, I honestly wonder just why so many young women find gay men to be more arousing than a man and a woman," Yasha admits in a sigh, pulling Kujaku tighter against his side. "I mean, how do they relate to that at all? I have the same question about straight men and lesbians, actually. Care to shed some light on this, you student of humanity you?" he teases good-naturedly.

"Y'know, it's silly but very simple," Kujaku says gaily as he finger-waves to the girls. "They say it works like this: straight girls like hot men, right? But oh no, that hot man has a girlfriend, they can't have him and feel all inadequate compared to that babe!

"But wait! If he's gay they can't have him anyway! And they think masculine equipment used on somebody who also has masculine equipment is hotter than if it's used on feminine equipment, why I really can't tell you. Also, you've probably noticed that a lot of female-produced fictional gay stuff has a girly man and a manly man, so they're using the stereotypical gender roles for their little fetish."

"But how do they _sexually _relate to two men?" Yasha deadpans. "Explain that."

"I dunno, you'd have to ask them. Of course, you'd probably get an answer like, 'Boy love is teh hottest thing evar!' And then many of them would say something along the lines of 'Women-parts are gross, but huge men with other men's asses makes me all hot!' " He rolls his eyes and adds, "Never mind how they get off thanks to those woman-parts."

"I guess I'll never truly understand the minds of women who prefer gay sex to heterosexual sex," Yasha sighs in resignation. "Perhaps there's some female misogyny there."

.

For all the fluffiness of the park walk… two weeks later, it's the farthest thing from their strung-out minds. Yasha's in a bad mood, having hit a writer's block, and Kujaku's suggestions only serve to annoy him. He snaps that no, Hiro is not going to make Shou chocolate for Valentine's Day, don't be a fool. And no, Hinata is not going to take a sudden trip to China and leave the men alone, that's too convenient. And for gods' sakes, no, they are not going to go to a hot spring and end up confessing while naked, and all that will lead to.

"Well _you _think of something, then," Kujaku snaps as he folds his arms, glaring and wishing Yasha could see that. Just for good measure, he adds in a snotty tone, "I'm glaring at you."

"I've been _attempting _to think of something, but every writer reaches a point – most of us reach this point many times – where you can't figure out what to do! Oh sure, I _could _take your cliché little suggestions, but I want this novel to be as realistic and as unique as I can, all right? And yes, I could tell you were glaring by your angry tone of voice, I'm blind but I'm not a moron," Yasha sneers, folding his own arms.

With a nasty smirk on his face, Kujaku gives Yasha two middle fingers, then drops his jaw in shock when Yasha barks furiously, "You just made a rude gesture, didn't you? _Didn't you?!_"

"How in the holy heck did you know that?" Kujaku breathes in awe, and Yasha impatiently snarls, "Because I know how your overgrown little boy brain works! Honestly, Kujaku, you need to grow up. I'm younger than you are, and I act more mature than you do!"

Now Kujaku is really pissed, and seizes Yasha's shirt as he snarls back, "That's because you're an old man in a young man's body! You don't know how to have fun, you have a stunted sense of humor, and you're too _stoic!_"

"STOIC?!" Yasha bellows at the top of his lungs, grabbing Kujaku's shirt in turn and shaking him hard. "How _dare _you call me _stoic_ with the things I've said to you?! I recited _poetry! _I told you things I never told anyone else, I let you in far more than even Rasetsu, and you think I'm an emotionless robot?!"

Kujaku bites his lip, ashamed of his statement, and awkwardly apologizes, "You're right, you're far from stoic. I'm sorry for that. But," he is unable to help adding and thus keep this spat going, "you _are_ too uptight and grouchy!"

Yasha bares his teeth, shoving Kujaku from him as he orders, "Go back to your apartment! I need some time alone, free from your _annoyances_."

Kujaku's eyes flash like amethyst fires, and he sarcastically growls, "Fine then, Mr. Oh So Amazing Writer. I try to help, and you just shoot me down and insult me! Fuck you, Yashiekins," he snarls over his shoulder, stomping for the door as loudly as he can, and knowing for a fact that Yasha hates that particular pet name.

"AND DON'T CALL ME THAT!"

Kujaku slams the door shut behind him, again as loudly as he can. Be that way, Yashiekins! Kujaku never knew how difficult it can be to get along with him. Well, all right, they sometimes argued back in Tenkai in front of half-dead Ashura, but those were resolved quickly because subconsciously, they didn't want him to watch them fight. And with so much of Yasha's life and emotions focused on his son, he had little energy to spare on getting mad at Kujaku.

If Kujaku wasn't so into his anger, he would realize that this is an ominous, troubling sign. They've never been this viciously mad at each other before, and never so touchy for so long. On the other hand, no relationship is perfect all the time. _Everybody _fights, no matter how wonderful their partnership might seem to observers. But Kujaku's never hada partnership like this before, so he's not sure how to approach this trial.

Whatever it is, it's not going to be an "I'm sorry!" bouquet and chocolates, nuh-uh. Yasha likes both of those a lot, even though he can't see the blooms, but Kujaku doesn't think _he _needs to be the one to make amends. He's done enough! He put so much effort into making Yasha want him, isn't it Yasha's turn to pick up the slack?

Dangerous waters. Compromise and a willingness to admit mistakes are a must for any sort of relationship, but especially an intimate one.

Kujaku goes to bed annoyed, and Yasha goes to bed cross. Why does Kujaku get under his skin like this? How can they be so amazingly in tune sometimes and so grating at others? Why is the man so childish? Why can't Yasha let this go?

He thinks hard on that, and comes to a conclusion. And with his decision made on what to do about it, he is able to drift off to a dreamless, fitful sleep.

.

_Okay. I'm going to go over there, _Kujaku steadfastly tells himself as he brushes his teeth the next morning. _I'm going to go over there and smooth it all out, say I'm sorry even though I don't want to, and hope he doesn't get on his high horse about it. I'm going to work hard not to get mad, and to butter him up into forgiving me._

Yes, a good night's sleep does wonders for mental clarity. Now that the clouding anger has dissipated, he knows that sometimes, you do have to say you're sorry when you don't want to, you do have to expend effort even if you've expended it before, and you do have to, maybe, order those "I'm sorry!" flowers no matter how mad that makes you. Because the end result is what's most important, isn't it? Having Yasha upset with him and being right isn't nearly as good as having Yasha forgive him and being wrong. And maybe… maybe they were both wrong.

So Kujaku walks the well-known path to Yasha's door, around two corners and basically the full length of the floor. But his footsteps, while they started out confident, are dragging and hesitant by the time he reaches Yasha's hall. What if the writer doesn't want to talk to him? What if Kujaku says the wrong thing and it sets Yasha off again?

_Well, all I can do is try, _he tells himself with as much enthusiasm as he can muster, knocking on the door.

No answer. He knocks again, and this time Yasha cracks the door open as he queries, "Yes?"

"Hey. It's me," Kujaku says with a big "Please forgive me" smile.

"Ah, Kujaku. Please, come in."

Yasha swings the door open, and there is something… off. He's smiling but there's tension in it, and his shoulders. Kujaku follows him inside and to the kitchen table, which is another bad sign. When things are good they usually sit on the couch.

"Listen, Yasha," he begins a bit desperately, "I have something important to tell you."

"Please, let me talk first," Yasha implores, taking Kujaku's hand and appearing more and more tense by the second. But Kujaku assents, hoping for an apology of his own.

Yasha seems incredibly nervous as he says, "Kujaku, um… my lease is up, and – and I'm… I'm not going to renew it."

Kujaku feels like shrieking to the heavens, like tearing out his hair, like grabbing Yasha and never letting him out of his grip again, because this can't be! How can the Bhagavaana let him taste this only to snatch it from him? How can Kujaku go on now knowing Yasha's rejected him like this, after all that's happened then and now? It will kill him, he'll go off and shoot himself in the head, because he lived to have Yasha love him.

But he'll do it, he knows he will. He'll let Yasha go, because that's what Yasha wants. So with tears in his eyes, he pulls his hand away and says, "I see. I understand, Yasha, I won't –"

"No, no you don't!" The writer grabs his wrist in an iron grip and orders, "Don't leave! Please… please don't leave." The last sentence is a soft, longing whisper, and Kujaku is now more confused than ever before.

"I didn't go about this right," Yasha mutters, flushing and embarrassed. "Obviously I should've said this part first." He squares his shoulders, and then asks with coaxing hope, "Will you move in with me? In a house just for us?"

Classic Yasha… clueless about social things. Kujaku just stares at him, unable to speak in his relief. Far from his overwrought and jumping-the-gun conclusions, Yasha doesn't want to break up with him, he wants to _live _with him.

This istrue love, dammit, and he tries to say, "I love you too," but it won't come, because he's all choked up.

It's Yasha's turn to get the wrong impression, this time from Kujaku's silence. He clasps both hands over Kujaku's and pleads, "I know we've been fighting lately, but that's what made me see how much I love you. I mean, Kujaku, I always ended every prior relationship after it hit a rocky patch just once, not for weeks on end. But that's all it is, on my end, because the disagreements are over stupid little things, not big, irreconcilable differences. If we just behave more maturely, we can work this out, I _know _we can!"

"I know we can too!" Kujaku practically bawls, leaping out of his chair and seizing Yasha in a hug. "Because I love you just as much, maybe more, and I hate when we're fighting! But yeah, it is just small stuff, 'cause I _know _we're meant to be together."

"I hope so," Yasha says fervently, then pulls back as Kujaku takes his sunglasses off. "Um, Kujaku, what are you doing?"

"I wanna look into your eyes for this, okay? I would die to make you happy," he says softly, staring deeply into Yasha's eyes even though he can't stare back at him. "For you… I'd –"

And Yasha gasps, suddenly pale, as he grabs Kujaku's face with an urgent, "Kujaku!"

The shorter man gives him a confused look, worried because there are suddenly tears in Yasha's eyes. He asks in concern, "Yasha? What's wrong? Are you okay? What's going on?"

"You'd… die to make me happy," Yasha breathes, his hands trembling. "I… I – you had black wings," he blurts out, his voice intense and those tears on his cheeks now. "And there were black feathers when I screamed, I never even had your body to mourn…"

Scenes whirl through the author's mind: Kujaku falling out of a tree, weak from hunger. Kujaku feeding an adorable little child a spoonful of porridge. A sword held to Kujaku's neck in a flying castle, and his cheerful, "No need to jump the sword. It's not like I'm one of Taishakuten's goons."

A palace of ice collapsing and Ashura wailing for his friend, and that friend popping up like nothing was wrong. Ashura clinging to Yasha in the snow, upset because of Rasetsu, and Kujaku's voice saying they were cute together. Kujaku hanging upside-down from a tree, shouting, "Boo!" right before an armored woman showed up to fight and die.

Death, so much death! A friend murdered out of Yasha's sight, white feathers, a red-haired man run through with his sword, Kisshouten cut down for cruelty's sake alone, a dark-skinned fighter killed by the woman she loved, that same woman ending her own life in penance. And Kujaku, with three eyes and black wings and a staff with rings, telling him, "Call all you like, it won't do any good."

Ashura in his coma, and Zouchouten saying, "She never, _ever_ smiled at me for myself."

Kujaku bringing food and water religiously, and Tenou sighing, "He _was_ loved, and I think deep down he knew that."

Kujaku whispering, "But at least _feel _while you wait," and pressed to the ground, gasping in pleasure as Yasha _felt. _

Kujaku stroking Ashura's cold face, murmuring, "I cherished his hugs."

Kujaku _sacrificing _himself so Ashura would awaken, so Yasha would be _happy. _Hakuryuu and Seiryuu, smiling and giving them a home. That constant regret, that Yasha never told Kujaku he loved him. And lying in bed, dying with the hope that he would see Kujaku soon.

Kujaku's been watching with desperate eyes and bated breath as Yasha remembers, stunned that this is happening. But he never had any hints! Everybody else had memories and dreams, so it was logical to think that Yasha would never remember. But oh man, this is the second-best thing that's ever happened to Kujaku, the first being the revelation that Yasha truly loves him.

Yasha, his head reeling from new knowledge, reaches out, grabs Kujaku's face, and brings him in for the kiss to end all Yasha/Kujaku kisses. Desperate, loving, passionate, and skilled, it's a clear signal of "I know who we are, and I love you even more now." This kiss lasts a full minute (granted there are short pauses for breath), and it's easily the most heart-pounding liplock either has ever had, in either world. This was how Yasha wanted to kiss Kujaku as he died, and finally, _finally_, they are both fully themselves again.

When they pull apart, Yasha breathes, "An embodiment of Tentei's sin? No, Kujaku, you're far from a sin, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, twice over. I love you," he says firmly, both of his hands tangled in wavy hair. "I love you now, and I loved you then. But by the time I realized it, you were already half-gone. And when I found my voice, it was too late."

"I wish I'd looked back and seen that on your face," Kujaku manages, all choked up. "But I would have done it anyway, Yasha. Oh… oh, just kiss me," he sighs, and moves in for another passionately aching, happily intimate kiss.

When they break that one, Yasha goes on, with tears in his eyes, "I wish you could have seen Ashura grow up. He was sad, but he learned how to handle it. He became a wise, responsible, caring and gentle man, and he actually threw the Shura Sword down a crevasse because of what it was. I don't suppose – I mean, if we're here, do you think he's here too?"

"Unfortunately I don't, because I expected him to with you. But most of us are here, Yasha," Kujaku tells him, grinning through his tears. "Zouchouten is, and Karura is with him. They have a child now, a son, and Karyoubinga lives with them as well."

"Good," Yasha replies, grinning as well. "Finally, she smiled at him for himself."

"And Souma and Kendappa, who let Jikokuten rest and is finally just Kendappa again," Kujaku continues with great animation. "Souma rescued her from a mental ward."

"Souma would," Yasha agrees with a grin, proud of his friend. "And Ryuu? Is Ryuu here?" he asks intensely, because he misses the fourth of the Six Stars and his grumpy suspicions, his carefree laugh, his insistence on traveling with them, but "I'm no rebel! I'm just on a trip to perfect my skills!"

"As far as I know Ryuu's not, because he didn't lose anybody," Kujaku says softly, "but you already know Kisshouten is, and Tenou. No Bishamonten or pining for Kendappa anymore."

"Ah, because Bishamonten's in Hell," Yasha guesses sagely, and is very surprised when Kujaku smirks, "Nope, Bishamonten's probably getting horizontal with Shashi right this minute. I think they're on their honeymoon."

As Yasha gapes in astonishment, Kujaku proceeds to shock him some more: "And you remember Kumaraten? Or hearing about him? He's the dotingest daddy you ever did see, except maybe for Zouchouten. Anyway, Kumie's married to Shashi's sister Kahra with a pair of twins, and a newborn too. Oh, and you'll love this," he chuckles wickedly. "That scary Fire God Aguni, Ms. 'Yasha My Pearl, I'll Slice Your Head Off Like a Mantis,' is lawfully wedded to Mr. Koumokuten 'I'm the General of the Westland, You Can't Beat Me and I Like Hell!' She's the perfect strong wife, even though a lot of her time is taken up with college."

Yasha gapes some more, thinks on it, and then mutters, "Okay, so I did wonder about that 'Master' thing and his 'stunning blade,' Kujaku. But I have to assume you had a role in everything, you being the mysterious know-it-all," he asserts with a grin, patting his man's cheek.

"Oh man, Yasha, yes I did. Like you wouldn't believe, and it started in Tenkai, even. I looked into the stars for Zouchouten," Kujaku says seriously, tapping a gentle finger against Yasha's nose. "The guy was losing it, and I wanted a bargaining chip to make him help me prevent more bloodshed. And wouldn't you know it, the stars told me he would find Karura again, _if _he turned his karma around by rebuilding and protecting.

"Y'know, I thought about looking at your future, but I think I was so afraid to see that you'd never love me. I mean, I knew what I'd have to do to awaken Ashura, but I kinda put that off until Taishie died. But I had a couple of reasons to do it, and I'm sure you can guess them."

"So I would be happy with my son?" the former Guardian Warrior asks in a whisper, and the former stargazer beams and cries, "Give the man a prize! I knew, the moment I saw him cocooned, that only a blood self-sacrifice would get him out. But I also knew Taishakuten would kill him anyway, so I waited. I guess I should've told you, but I didn't want you to drive yourself nuts with impatience. Although maybe it would've actually made it easier for you."

Yasha sagely responds, "Well, there's nothing we can do about it now. But you were telling me about how you had a hand in everybody's happiness."

"You're right, I was. Okay, so. I kill myself, and I'm expecting to see the gates of the Land of the Dead, and Kisshouten throwing me a welcome party. But instead, I'm in limbo, which I now realize was waiting for everybody else to die, including you.

"Then the Bhagavaana show up, and they're all like, **'Kujaku, your solemn mission in your next life is to get these people together, and then and only then will you see Yasha again.'** So I did. I was a nanny for Kahra's twins, I was a waiter for Karura and Zouchouten, I was a pizza delivery guy for Souma, I was Kisshouten's piano tuner, I showed up in a park when Koumokuten was losing it, and I was an insurance adjuster for Shashi," he merrily explains, paraphrasing four years of hard work.

Yasha shakes his head slowly, and asks in a sigh, "So did you know all along who you were? If so, no wonder you seemed so desperate to be my friend."

Kujaku emphatically nods, remembers that Yasha can't see that, and answers, "Yeah. I knew in the _womb_, even! So as you can imagine, it really sucked to wait to grow up, when I already knew the alphabet but I had to pretend I didn't, or my parents here would think I was some sort of prodigy. They might've shipped me off to a school for gifted children and made me famous, and that would've made my job harder. But I managed it.

"Anyway… fourteen people are happy now, Yasha," Kujaku gratefully tells him, his hands stroking his man's face. "Fourteen of us know who we are, and who we really love, and that Fate isn't always so cruel after all. All of us suffered, most of us died tragically, and we're all indescribably lucky to be in this new world. By all rights Bishamonten, Shashi, Kendappa, Koumokuten, and Koumie's little Amazon boobookins should've been shipped off to Hell, but I've seen changes in them you wouldn't believe.

"And Yasha," he adds, more honestly than ever before, "I would've traded each and every one of the other twelve for you in a _heartbeat. _Because, damn," he smirks, having had enough of all this seriousness, "I spent _waaayyy _too much time angsting and watching things I didn't want to see for Tenkai's benefit. I think I deserve a little something for myself."

"Well, Kujaku," Yasha shoots back, "you do realize that without you everythingwould have been futile, don't you? After all, Lord Ashura unleashed Taishakuten so his son could live, and if you hadn't made Ashura so bonded to me, he would have killed me and the entire world would've gone up in flames."

"Lord Ashura was a very awful man, in the end," Kujaku agrees with a crack of his knuckles. "He didn't care one bit that the world he was sworn to protect would suffer under a tyrant through his actions. But… we loved Ashura. Not the fully realized God of War, but the little boy, and for that I have to thank Lord Ashura."

"I miss him," Yasha admits with a longing tone in his voice. "Do you think he's happy, in the Land of the Dead? Do you think he's watching us right now?"

"I dunno. But let's wave at the ceiling in case he is," Kujaku chuckles, and so they do, like idiots. Kujaku even calls, "Hi, Ashura! I hope you weren't watching your dad and me in the bedroom, for the sake of your peace of mind!"

They both chuckle at that, then Kujaku throws his arms around Yasha's neck again, snuggling close. For a while they just sit there, Yasha hugging his partner back, content just to be together. It's so much for Yasha to process, but he's doing all right, and he's infinitely grateful that Kujaku knocked on his door with cookies he's allergic to. That's not to say things can only go up from here, but even for all the downs, they'll each have the man they can't live without forever.

"I know exactly what you look like now," the writer grins, touching Kujaku's smooth cheek and stroking his thumb along his soft lips. "You're gorgeous, straddling the line between beautiful and handsome, and I love those exotic purple eyes, even if they were the result of a curse. And I have to say, I like the medium-length hair much better, because that ponytail you had by the end was never really you."

"Well remind me to religiously get my hair trimmed, then," Kujaku grins back. "As for you, if you ever cut that sexy mane I'm going to have to do something drastic. In fact, grow it way out, like before! Then I can braid it and play with it, and give you funny hairstyles that you'll grouch about when I describe them to you, but you'll let me do anyway 'cause you loooove me."

"I do loooove you," Yasha agrees with all his heart. "Twice, and forever. That's _our _promise."

.

"…So then she was like, 'The first step is getting rid of those meddlesome Four Gods,' and I felt like saying, 'Lady, you're in _Taishakuten's castle_, with Bishie spies all around and Kendappa listening outside the door! You got a death wish or what?' " Kujaku is snickering a bit meanly, as he and Yasha walk hand in hand in that same park the next morning.

"Shashi was such a megalomaniac," Yasha replies with a sniff. "And the worst mother in the history of bad – no wait, yours went insane and tried to murder you by strangulation, when you were for all intents and purposes six and she was the only person you loved. Being stabbed as a newborn wouldn't have been that agonizing."

Kujaku shrugs as he agrees, then leans his head onto Yasha's shoulder as a companionable silence falls. Ah, the flower petals are gone but they don't really need them, do they? Their romance is every day, every moment, even when it's gloomy and depressing outside. But today is sunny and very warm for spring, and Kujaku grins as they come up on a group of kids playing on the playground. Ha, kids, they're so –

And then, his eye falls on someone he thought he wouldn't see again until he dies for good: a little boy, maybe six or seven, ebony hair in a high ponytail and big golden eyes, furtively eating a candy bar over by the sand box. He's dressed in what look like hand-me-down clothes, too big for him and a bit faded, but they also look like he's been playing hard in them.

Kujaku grabs Yasha's arm and nearly yells into his ear, "Yasha! Yasha, that's _Ashura_ over there!"

"Ashura?!" Yasha whips his head towards Kujaku's voice, having no idea where his child is, and pleads, "Are you certain?"

"Positive," Kujaku confirms, and his voice is shaky with emotion. "I'd know that appearance anywhere, even minus the pointy ears. He's even got the same hairstyle! Oh, he's little right now, like he was circa Kusumapura. Here, let's get close and see if he recognizes us. He probably won't, but we can _try_," he says fervently, pulling Yasha over as fast as he dares.

So far Ashura hasn't even noticed them, he's just focused on scarfing down his food. He inhales that candy bar faster than is safe, then sighs mournfully, looking down at the wrapper like more chocolate will appear if he hopes hard enough. Kujaku considers offering him some breath mints, but offering a small child candy as an adult male stranger is just _not _the way to go, seriously. But what is? "Hi kiddo, my name's Kujaku, and I want to be your friend!" is also creepy-sounding, in this day and age.

"My, what a _looovely _sandbox that is," he tries in as nonthreatening a voice as he can. "I wish I could play in it like you can, kid, but once you grow up you don't get to muck around in the dirt unless you're an archaeologist."

Ashura gives him a cherubic smile, and just like the far too trusting child in Tenkai, he grabs Kujaku's hand and chirps in excitement, "Play in it with me now! Why does your friend have sunglasses and a cane?" he asks curiously, nodding at Yasha.

"I'm blind," Yasha manages, but his voice is shaking with emotion. "I'm blind, Ashura. But my name is Yasha, and this is –"

And suddenly a man looks out from the boy's eyes, a man who lived through horror and healed, a man who learned to forgive himself for things he wrought but that weren't truly his fault. A man who watched his father die of old age, and missed his friends terribly, and was good with children because he wanted to recapture the childhood he never really got.

"YASHA!" he happily screams, throwing his arms around Yasha's waist and grinning like a madman – er, madchild. "And KUJAKU!" he continues, beaming at his closest friend. "It's – I can't believe it!"

"Neither can I," Yasha replies with a smile, sounding more than a little choked up. "Kujaku and I thought you weren't here! We thought you were in the afterlife. But Ashura, what is your life like here?"

"I'm an orphan," Ashura answers, sighing dismally but now hugging Kujaku. "Or close enough, at least. I was dumped as a baby on the orphanage doorstep with a note that said 'Ashura,' which of course now makes me wonder if my father was Lord Ashura, and my mother was Shashi. I mean, if –"

"Shashi wasn't your mother here, but it's certainly possible that Lord Ashura was your father," Kujaku gently interrupts. "I met Shashi, I know all about her, and she only had Tenou in this world. But I do know that Lord Ashura was here, maybe he still is, so perhaps you _were_ his son from a different mother. But that's not important right now, because if Yasha's thinking what I'm thinking, we'll be contacting your agency," he grins as he winks, and Ashura grins back.

"We _will _adopt you," Yasha promises him, his words burning with conviction. "Or at least, one of us will adopt you, we have no rights as a pair. So how would we go about doing that?"

"Get your phone ready for notes," Ashura says, sounding quite serious. "It's complicated, and I need to give you the agency's number."

"Number away!" is Kujaku's cheery response, with his fingers poised over the phone.

And so Ashura recites the number, recites the process, and warns them about pitfalls to avoid and what looks good, plus, "_Do not _tell them you're gay! They won't give me to you otherwise, because they think a gay man is automatically a gay pedophile. One of you should pretend you're a single straight man, and with a little luck it should work. I bet Kujaku can charm them into it," he predicts with a wink at his pal.

"Yasha should move into the house we're thinking of buying," Kujaku decides with a firm nod, "and I'll stay in the apartment for a while. Yasha, I know you wanna be Daddy as soon as possible, but you had the kid all the time in Tenkai! Let me have him for a while. And of course, the minute they're done checking up on us, we'll move into your house," he concludes with an angelic smile.

Yasha thinks on that, and comes to the conclusion that it's a sound plan. He nods solemnly, then lays a hand on Ashura's shoulder as he queries, "So what else is your life like here?"

"Pretty much the same as any other unwanted kid's, except the people at the orphanage are really nice. Oh, and I'm a real boy now," Ashura tells them a bit wryly, with one eyebrow lifted. "You know what I'm talking about, I think. But, you know, you could have knocked me over with a feather, Yasha, when you explained that I was sexless and other people had actual genitals. I thought all males were like me, since you called me a boy and so that's what I thought I was."

"Eh, you were more male than female anyway," Kujaku blithely assures him, patting his head. "Boobs, unless you've had a double mastectomy, are sort of a requirement for a gal."

"Well, by that argument a penis is sort of a requirement for a guy, but hey, it worked," Ashura replies with a shrug. "But I'm excited now that I can actually have kids, once I'm old enough and married of course. So guys, since you're here and my Tenkai mother and father were here, who else is around?"

"A better question would be, 'Who _isn't _around?' " Kujaku chuckles, ruffling his hair. "Okay, I'll go in chronological –"

"ASHURA! _Don't talk to strangers!_" a shrill female voice interrupts, and Ashura jumps with a "Not again" resigned look on his face. All three of them turn to see a skinny woman rushing towards them, barking, "Who are you, and why are you touching that boy's hair?!"

"I'm Karasu Kujaku, and this is my pal Yasha," Kujaku replies with a friendly smile. "And I was touching this boy's hair because I like to ruffle people's hair as a fond gesture. Like, 'Good on ya, sport!' See, he was telling me all about dinosaurs," he risks, because a lot of kids are _really _into dinosaurs.

And indeed, the chaperone sighs half-fondly, half-exasperatedly, and replies, "Yes, Ashura is very, _very _knowledgeable about dinosaurs. He's often even carrying his plastic Tyrannosaurus."

"_Giganotosaurus carolinii_, Yumi," Ashura corrects in complete exasperation. "They're bigger and have a thinner face than the T. rex! And there were _many _tyrannosaurs besides the T. rex."

"Yes yes, honey," Yumi hastily agrees, obviously forestalling a long dinosaur monologue. "Well, Mr. Karasu, it was nice of you to talk to Ashura. He's an orphan – our entire group is from the orphanage – so he definitely needs people to interact with."

"An orphan?" Kujaku asks with dead-on surprise. "As in, he needs to be adopted?"

"Why, yes," Yumi replies with a brilliant smile, apparently no longer suspicious at all. "He _does _need to be adopted. I don't suppose you'd be interested in looking into that?"

"You know," Kujaku says slowly, as though this is a new but attractive idea, "I think I would. I'm not making any promises," he hastily directs at Ashura, "but I like you, and I've been getting kinda lonely ever since my girlfriend left me. I was hoping we'd get married and have kids, but… I guess I never really thought of adoption before. Do you have a card?"

And so it goes, Kujaku works his magic again as Yasha and Ashura use all their willpower not to give it away. At least they can both smile hopefully, and Yasha can chip in that this would be good for his friend Kujaku, and Ashura can be excited at the prospect of maybe someday gaining a daddy. By the time Kujaku and Yasha turn to leave, Yumi is beaming just as hard as Ashura is, waving at them as they walk away.

Once he's sure they're out of earshot, Kujaku throws his head back and bursts into joyous laughter, Yasha laughing along. Kujaku actually has to lean onto Yasha for support, then finally wipes a tear from his eye and manages, "That was a _record!_ She goes from yelling at me as a pedophile to encouraging me to adopt in less than thirty seconds! If only everybody was this gullible."

"You were lucky on the dinosaurs, though," Yasha has to point out. "Unless he was wearing a dinosaur shirt?"

"No, his shirt had no graphic whatsoever. But think about it, Yasha… little boys are into sports, trucks, or dinosaurs – okay, little girls are often into dinosaurs too. Ashura's not particularly sporty, and he wasn't playing with a truck. I figured the odds were pretty good that he's a little expert, the type who watches blockbuster dinosaur movies and can't enjoy them because of the inaccuracies," Kujaku snickers, tugging a lock of Yasha's hair.

"Well, I know how that works in a way," Yasha responds in a sigh, putting an arm around Kujaku's waist. "I find it incredibly difficult to read books that aren't on my level, and unfortunately my level is pretty high. Young adult books are the _worst_."

Kujaku shakes his head and patiently chides, "But you're not a young adult. They're not written for somebody like you! Back to Ashura, we need to start the preparation immediately. Heck, I'll call the orphanage as soon as we get home! That'll make me look really interested, and everybody loves really interested people."

Yasha nods firmly and agrees, "Yes, you need all the brownie points you can get. We should clue Rasetsu in about as much as he'll understand, just in case they ask him some questions."

"Yeah. We can definitely use his help. Say, Yasha… should we tell him about Tenkai?" Kujaku asks with the utmost solemnity.

And Yasha thinks, long and hard. Rasetsu deserves to know what happened there, what important part he played in his brother's life, and if Shara is here in this world, he deserves to know about her too. But on the other hand, Rasetsu is a very "I believe in what I see" person, so he's likely to think that Yasha and Kujaku are playing a particularly stupid and obvious joke on him. So with great reluctance, Yasha replies…

"No, Kujaku. He won't believe us, and might even think we're losing it if we insist it's real. I would _love _to tell him everything, but now's not the time. It may never be the time, actually, but I'd like to think that someday, he'll be more receptive to the idea."

"I guess," Kujaku acquiesces with a sigh. "I sure hope that day comes, too."

Maybe it will one day. Maybe Rasetsu will bump onto Shara on the street, stare into her eyes, and recall everything. Or maybe not, but there's nothing Yasha and Kujaku can do about it. All they can do is head home, and when it's time to get into bed, cuddle up close together.

"This is awesome," Kujaku mutters sleepily. "I feel like I was made to be here with you."

"Yes, so do I. And I love your mind too. Your idea of Shou being shot in a holdup so Hiro can confess at his bedside was a nice twist," Yasha compliments contentedly, hugging Kujaku. "Much better than the hot springs idea."

"I dunno, Yasha… hot springs would've been sexier than blood and meaty bits all over the street."

"There is that, yes."

_The rain might be warm, _Yasha thinks as he runs his fingers through Kujaku's hair, _but nothing can beat Kujaku. In warmth, in love, in strength and determination… and I'm the luckiest man in the world – in both worlds – that I have him with me._

.

.

(AN: Hmm, those were the most involved male/male sex scenes I've ever written. Comments? To be totally honest, anal sex makes me cringe, but not out of some bigoted, "JEEZUS says it's WRONG" worldview [which guess what, he never did that we know of]. It's just… really think about what they're doing there, guys, with what unhygienic body part.

Yeah. I'm probably one of the few writers who's written slash who only likes it for the characters involved, not because I think buttsex is the most arousing thing ever [ugh, completely the opposite]. I actually had rather a hard time with those scenes, and you saw some of my mystification about yaoi's popularity in that discussion when they were in the park. Yaoi fangirls often also hate/completely ignore the female characters no matter how awesome they are – while they give horrible hot men free passes for monstrous, sadistic behavior, like Taishakuten and Lord Ashura. So I definitely think there's female misogyny involved for most yaoi fangirls.

One final chapter: an epilogue, where we'll see what everybody else is up to and the sales figures for The Rain Is Warm. And Zouchouten and Karura finally get some time focused just on them in this fic, with their associated sister and son.)


	20. Epilogue: Fifteen People

**Epilogue: Fifteen People**

(AN: One last het sex scene. Now I can stop warning the squeamish.)

.

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(June 25th, 2016)

"Have a nice day, Fire God?"

Aguni puts down her book and smiles at Koumokuten, who's already taking off that noose of a tie. Too bad being a Senior Vice President requires one, but oh well. She's lucky because what she has around her neck is something she truly loves to wear: that exquisite amber pendant that he bought for her in Latvia. Like her wedding ring, she only takes the necklace off to bathe and sleep. She likes to leave it on for sex, even, and he likes that too.

As she stands up, she easily replies, "Well, it was an okay day. I still miss being in college, but I'm reading the textbooks so I won't fall completely behind. In fact, I'll have a leg up on the competition when I retake the class. I'll beat them all!" she says proudly, and he nods with equal pride as he walks over, no doubt in his mind that she speaks the truth.

"And how's Kaen?" he asks seriously, spreading his hand over the bulge of his wife's nine-months-pregnant belly. "No bumps against the table, no accidental imbibing of –"

"I drank paint thinner today," she says with a completely straight face, so straight his eyes bug out in horror. She goes on in an apologetic tone, "It's pica, honey, and boy, the way the turpentine burned my throat was so great, I had to have another glass mixed with vodka and –"

"Oh ha ha ha," he groans, miming a slap upside the head. "Not funny. Although really, if I'd been operating off logic and not my gut reaction, I woulda wondered how you were still alive. Aguni, don't say things like that unless you want me to have a heart attack. Can't you just satisfy your need for humor by telling a knock-knock joke or something? Or watching some comedy show? Or even remembering the time you made me ice skate?"

"Ha, you spent more time flat on the ice than you did on your skates!" she says gleefully, and he rolls his eyes. Shouldn't have brought it up, he belatedly realizes.

Oh well. He'd overwhelmingly rather have her laugh at him than be sad, honestly. Not that she's sad very often anymore – well, when the mood swings aren't wreaking havoc, anyway. She started bawling during her Women's Studies class, at the cruelty of the male sex. It was embarrassing, but oh well, she can sail on through people teasing her.

She's a woman amongst giggling girls and swaggering boys, one who has few friends there. But that's perfectly okay, because she's not there to be friends. She's there to get a degree in criminal justice, and she's doing that with flying colors.

She looks down at her baby bump and laughs with pride, "She's kicking again, Koumokuten. Active. We should get her a plush soccer ball or something," she teases, visions of a perfect little mix of the two of them beaming as she accepts the Women's World Cup, after having led Japan to victory.

"Ooh, yeah, we'll do that!" he excitedly decides, then reluctantly adds, "Just, you know, once she's strong enough to push it away if it falls on her face. If she suffocated, I'd go berserk. But I'll file that info away for when it's time," he smirks, tapping the side of his head.

"Yes, do that. I just can't wait for her to be born, not only to see her, but because this sucks," she sighs almost defeatedly, then adds, "I feel so soft and weak, you know, unable to do heavy lifting or –"

"_Weak?_" He's incredulous, and asks, "You're carrying around another human being and have been for nine months, you still have morning sickness, and you think you're _weak?_"

She flushes ever so slightly as he continues, "Damn Aguni, if I were you I woulda gone insane or ended the pregnancy in Month Two! Okay, not that last one, but I wouldn't be handling it nearly as well as you are. You handle it better than Parvati did," he sighs with much dismal intonation, and his face adopts that familiar depressed expression that it gets whenever Tamara is brought up.

She is still adamant about no contact, which wounds her father deeply. He's tried to reach out to her many times, mostly through email, but all he gets in return is silence. Same with the birthday and holiday cards he religiously sends, no matter how heartfelt and long the notes inside them are. No, Tamara has not forgiven him. She doesn't even open those emails or cards, and as she told him she would, she sends them straight to the email recycle bin or the physical recycle bin.

Aguni, trying to shake her husband out of his funk, returns to the subject of "I'm starting to wish birth would just come _now_, no matter how hard it'll be. I mean, it seems like I can only sleep for one hour before I have to pee! And certain fun sex positions are gone," she whines with an exaggerated pout, but it doesn't make him laugh.

Instead he mutters, "I'm sorta dreading birth, I gotta admit."

"You're nervous, huh?"

"I _am_ nervous," he tells her honestly. "Afraid, even. What if something –?"

"Ah, but here I can quote something back at you," she smiles as she pats his cheek, then intones, " 'Everybody gets scared sometimes. The trick is to not let it make you do stupid things, like mollycoddle a broad who can handle pain.' " The last part was said with a grin.

He grins back, and quips, "I taught you well. But then, not to pat myself on the back, I taught you a lotta things well. Except sex, which kinda sucks, because it woulda been awesome being your first and teaching you all the tricks you know. Not that they aren't great," he hastens to reassure her, "it's just a guy thing to want to be the one your beloved gives her virginity too."

"Well, I would have in Tenkai, but I thought I had no chance with you, plus I was fifteen in human years," she sighs a bit ruefully. "I gave it up for a mug of ale, a good time, and to be one of the cool kids. And of course, here I didn't have the choice who – well, there's no need to go into that depressing life story," she mutters, and he says abruptly, "I can watch you sleep now, you know. You never let yourself be vulnerable before."

That's true. Years of keeping one eye open so your father doesn't come in and hurt you will leave a mark on anyone. Even with the knowledge now that yes, she was a warrior before and if anyone tries that now they'll die, it still took a long time to break that habit. But it has been broken now, it was broken the night she conceived, appropriately enough.

"That's because I trust you," she tells him simply. "I guess my subconscious knows that if anything tries to harm me, you'll kill it. You'll protect me."

He hugs her then, and she sighs into his shoulder, then grins when Kaen kicks. They can both feel it, and Aguni smirks, "She either wants us to stop doing this, or she wants us to remember she's here."

"I can feel her kick at night too," he grins as he pats her back. "I'll be half-asleep, and then whoa, movement! The funniest thing is how you're usually out like a light. Does that make itself known in your dreams? Because Parvati always woke up when Tamara kicked," he says seriously.

"It does," Aguni grins in reply. "Once I was dreaming I was back in Tenkai, slaughtering some peons and having a grand old time, and then suddenly she kicks and I'm pregnant on the battlefield, wearing a rounded piece of armor over my belly and screaming, 'You all have to put those weapons down so she and I don't get hurt!' "

Koumokuten bursts out into evil laughter, and Aguni laughs along. Oh man, wouldn't that be a change.

"So am I on my horse helping with the slaughtering, or am I somewhere else?" he teases with a wink. "Do I bash some skulls if they don't obey your orders? Please say yes."

"I think you must have been somewhere else," she regretfully replies. "But let's pretend that you trample some bozo who doesn't heed the call to lay down his arms, okay? You could say something like, 'This is what you get when you threaten my pregnant Fire God, you wuss of a man.' "

"Sweet."

Contented silence for a while, then she pats the baby bump and tells him, "You know, her hearing's developed enough to pick up on outside noises. I think you should start talking to her, so she realizes that your voice is Daddy's voice. And so she'll be more comfortable with you when she's born, too, so maybe you'll be able to calm her down a little easier," she says hopefully, not looking forward to the constant crying.

"Okay, okay," he sighs, still not convinced the kid can hear him, what with Aguni's heartbeat and all. But he gets down on his knees, pats the bulge, and tries to think of what you're supposed to say to somebody who can't comprehend a word of it.

"So. Kaen." He pauses, then says in a singsong voice, "Daddy feels _really _stupid talking to his wife's belly."

A snort of laughter comes from above him, with a light, playful swat to the head. He shoots her a "Watch it, lady" glance but continues, "So you must be pretty bored in there, all by yourself with nothing to do but grow. And suck your thumb, and kick, and wiggle your arms and fingers and toes.

"But just wait 'til you get out here. It'll be like an overload of stimulation, and Daddy's gonna show you off to everybody. He'll drag you into work and make everybody meet you when you're old enough, and hell, he'll show you to the mailman," he smirks, picturing an obediently nodding mailman as he himself proudly indicates Kaen's precious little fingernails, or something.

"So we're wondering about your coloring, kid. Obviously your skin's gonna be darker than mine, but your mommy and I have a bet riding on what color your hair's gonna be. She says brown, I say black, so don't make us both look stupid and be a blonde, okay?" he sighs, tapping a finger against the swell of Aguni's belly.

"But she'll be pretty if she's blond," his wife says smugly. "You keep saying how my coloring is, and I quote, 'sexily exotic.' "

"Well, it _is_," he mutters with complete conviction, and goes back to talking to Kaen with, "Anyway, your daddy is still kinda in awe about all this. If you'd told him three hundred years ago that the crazy kid hugging a maggot-infested body was gonna be the mother of his second child, he woulda given you a weird look. Then again, if you'd told him that _two _hundred years ago, he woulda grinned. I think your mommy woulda done a happy dance," he smirks, and lays his hand against Aguni's belly.

"I _did _do a happy dance, remember?" she reminds him proudly, and strokes his head. "After the doctor confirmed it."

"Yeah, props to you. Okay kid, Daddy's had enough of this for now, but he'll talk to you later," he hastily assures Kaen as Aguni starts to frown. But at those last words she's all smiles again, and as he gets up, she coos, "You're going to be the best father ever, I just _know _it."

"Thanks. You'll be a great mom too," he says fervently as he gets back up.

"I think I will be," she agrees as she nods, then seizes him in an embrace and adds, "And whenever I'm not, you'll be there to pick up the slack."

"Of course I will, Fire God, of course I will. Always."

.

It's another delightful afternoon in the Yusaku household as well. Karyoubinga is playing with her two-year-old nephew, Sahen, as his parents watch with fond smiles. Karyoubinga is proud of being an aunt, and helps so much Zouchouten often wants to buy her a real pony or something. She adores her nephew, and Sahen adores her in return. He giggles when she smiles at him, he reaches for her hand and toddles along at her side, he says, "Ka'you!" and "Sing, sing!"

_Family, _Zouchouten thinks as Karyoubinga tickles Sahen's chubby belly, the toddler shrieking with laughter. _And it does make me content, like Tenou once suggested. But only because Karura is part of that family._

Being a parent is tough, there's no doubt about it. He and Karura deal with crying, illnesses, tantrums, accidents, the accidental imbibing of a small coin (that was really scary), and sometimes differing views on how things should be handled… but for the most part, they're dealing with those _together_. And there is definitely joy too, seeing that bright little smile, hearing words like "I love you Mommy and Daddy," feeling sticky toddler kisses and curious chubby hands patting them to get their attention. Or just because Sahen's in his "pet everything" stage, from fluffy animals to garbage on the ground.

He's a blessing. Zouchouten always wanted a child, and while Karura at first didn't, she came around with some fervent persuasion, and by the time she actually conceived she wanted a baby just as much as her husband did. Sahen makes their lives so much richer, and Zouchouten can't help but think that he'll be an astounding man once he grows up.

When Koumokuten and Aguni have their little girl, she and Sahen can be friends, and perhaps fall in love, marry, and start a new generation descended from warrior women and Four Gods. Yes, that would be nice, a little southwestern grandchild years down the road, and even if not, how great would it be to have your friend as your child's father-in-law? Zouchouten beams, planning his offspring's future in his head, as his son bonks Karyoubinga with a stuffed piggy toy and Karura laughs.

_I love to hear you laugh, Sky Queen, _her husband thinks fondly, glancing over at her so their eyes meet. _It's a beautiful sound, and I think I only heard it eight times in Tenkai, most of them when you were a child. But I guess you have much more to be happy about here in Tokyo, without having to watch genocide and worrying about Karyou's health._

And she in turn is thinking, _You like my laugh and you're thinking about Tenkai, I can tell. I know you too well by now, my Zouchouten. Your little quirks and idiosyncrasies, and likes and dislikes I never knew in Tenkai. Such as your near-fetish for warrior women, which was a surprise to me given your wife back there, but it was a __nice__ surprise._

He's just… astounding. He's gentle and kind, but he can be protective and as hard as he needs to be with other people. He makes her laugh and smile, but he can be very serious and wise as well. He let Karyoubinga put lipstick on him and do his nails because she kept insisting, but he can be the manliest man his wife has ever seen everywhere else. He tells her romantic, sappy things and goes in for grand gestures, but he can be no-nonsense and practical too.

And then of course, there's the whole _physical _aspect, she thinks as an ecstatic little shiver runs through her. Oh, it's very very good, and she often wishes they'd both gotten their acts together in Tenkai so they could've done it there too. But no matter. Because she has Zouchouten, now and for eternity, and it's like flying again, except this time she's firmly on the ground and doesn't have to worry about her warbird mount getting tired. No, he can make her soar above the clouds with just a smile.

They eat dinner, Zouchouten conscientiously cutting up Sahen's noodles for him, and Sahen getting food all over his face and the high chair. Karura serenely cleans him off when he's all done, then carries him up to bed because he's starting to yawn. Karyoubinga follows, helps her sister sing the kiddo a lullaby, then when he's conked out and they've tiptoed back into the hallway, the younger sibling asks, "Karura, when is he going to be old enough to go to bed by himself?"

"Well, physically, he'll be able to get himself into bed when he's three, but most children crave familial contact until they're eleven or twelve. After all, you still want it and you're nine," is Karura's easy response, as they go back down the stairs.

Karyoubinga lights up and replies, "Good, because I want to _always _help tuck him in!"

The sisters wander back into the living room, where Karyoubinga soon engages Zouchouten in a game of go. She's pretty good at go, he's much better (he is after all a former elite general) – but he deliberately makes mistakes so the games can last longer and she can get more points, when in reality he could usually crush her. Karyoubinga never picks up on that, and he lets her win about forty percent of the time. After all, if he lets her win too often she'll know something's up, he mentally smirks as he moves a stone.

Today he lets her win, and she smiles proudly, making Karura grin at Zouchouten behind her back. He sends his wife a conspiratorial smile, then pats Karyoubinga's shoulder as he tells her, "And now it's time for this little go winner to go to bed."

"Awww… okay," she reluctantly agrees, and once Karura's tucked her in as well, Karyoubinga can't help but think, _You guys are so gung-ho about me going to bed. It's like you can only do something fun when I'm asleep!_

How right she is. Soon Karura locks her bedroom door behind her husband, and she whispers, "Isn't it nice how her room is on the other side of this floor?"

"Wise planning," Zouchouten chuckles, leading her over to the bed. "Why else would I have pushed for her to sleep there? Remember, it took some persuading."

"Yes, it did. Oh, Zouchouten… I'm so glad we can do this," Karura sighs happily.

"Taking your clothes off never gets old," he grins in anticipation, unbuttoning her blouse with practiced movements. "You know, I used to have this fantasy about tearing your tunic open in Tenkai, and you'd still be wearing the necklace, the gauntlets, the sashes, and the shin guards, but your torso would be bare. It was just something about the combination of bare breasts and ready-for-action clothes that did it, I think."

"I would call you a perv, if I didn't want to get you naked in the main audience chamber of Castle South," she grins back, and it's a naughty grin. "Didn't you ever wonder why I kept flushing and avoiding your eyes whenever I visited?"

"Yeah, but I thought you were just offended by how he-man I got when I was in my personal fortress," he sighs, throwing her shirt over his shoulder. "You know, the stuffed and mounted monster heads everywhere, the drinking contests, the good-ol'-boy slaps on the back to every male in my vicinity, and the hunting hounds running rampant. Oh, and the motto carved on the wall over my place at the table: 'I set mine foot upon Tenkai's enemies.' It was a little too testosterone-filled, I think now."

"Okay yes, but at least the motto was there for thousands of years before you got the job," she reminds him as she divests him of his belt. "Still, I must say your taste in interior decorating has much improved."

"Oh, that's just because you're around," he smiles easily, unhooking her bra. "I felt I had to prove my devotion to your beauty by making everything I could white and blue. Such lovely colors, and they flatter my coloring too. Plus they go with pretty much everything."

"Rika is probably crying in the Land of the Dead right now," Karura grins, looking a bit evil as she discusses his Tenkai wife. "She's bawling into her hands that I'm about to make love to you, and bore your son."

"Oh, let her. You know I only married her because I thought you ignored me. She's adorable yes, but my love for _you _trumps my love for her…"

And so on and so forth, such a contrast to the unhappy years of Tenkai. They fall back onto the bed once all clothes have been shed, hands wandering and mouths wandering too, when not joined together. One other thing she never realized in Tenkai was how sensitive her breasts really are, but he sure showed her what they were truly capable of feeling. So she's more than happy when he laves one nipple with his tongue, then does the same to the other one, gently rolling the first peak between his fingers as he begins to suck its twin.

"Ahh," she gasps happily, tossing her head on the pillows. "Oh, _yes_, yes, like that. Oh, _Zouchouten_…"

He knows what he's doing, oh yes he does. She knows what she's doing too, skills practiced on him and him alone. And when she switches their positions, he grins up at her because she's an expert at this as well. She sinks down onto him with a happy gasp, as always marveling that she can contain such large equipment. But contain it she does, and finds pleasure in this as well.

It makes sense for them to come together this way. Oh sure, other positions are fun too, but really, put a huge muscular guy on top of an average woman and soon she's frantically gasping, "You're crushing me," when he forgets to keep his weight off of her. And straight-up missionary is fricking boring. Ah, but this way they can not only see each other's faces but she has more control, something she likes and he thinks is damn sexy, watching Lady Karura take charge again.

_Ride 'em, Sky Queen, _Zouchouten thinks with a grin, his hands at her waist and hers mirroring his. She grins back, something he never, ever gets tired of seeing, and breathlessly orders, "Guess what I'm thinking."

"You're thinking you like it like this?" he obediently guesses, his grin turning wolfish. "You're thinking, 'Gee, my husband has darn good stamina for a man in his fifties'? Or maybe you're just thinking it's really too bad we never tried this back in Tenkai, on the warpath perhaps. That would've been fun, you and me in a bedroll while the camp went about its business completely unawares."

"All of those are, while true, not what I was – ahh – thinking. I was thinking that I never would have guessed it could be like this," she pants happily, and adds, "You hear horror stories when you're a virgin, both in Tenkai and Tokyo."

Well, it wasn't nearly as bad as she'd once been afraid of, their wedding night. Maybe that was because she'd sat down and exhaustively researched what to expect, talked to a gynecologist, done a number of things with Zouchouten earlier, and thought to herself, _Well, even if I cry, I'll know what it means, giving myself to him. And he won't hurt me if he can help it, and even if the first time is bad it gets better, all the sources say that._

It was indeed painful at first, but by the end she was thinking, _I love it. I love it. I love it! I LOVE IT! _It's all in the partner, she thinks as they grin at each other some more.

_So take this, Taishakuten, _she smirks in her head. _You kept us apart, you killed me, you taunted him, but you didn't win in the end. We found each other again, and we're happy together. You're hopefully suffering like you deserve to, but I'm making love with my husband. You know, the one you thought was weak but ended up helping Tenkai come back to life._

Soon long, rational thoughts like that are gone, and all that's left is sensation, emotion, motion, and perspiration. She can feel her climax building in her lower belly, and he can feel his as well. Yes, yes, _yes_, here it comes!

Karura throws her head back at the electric orgasm, a cry escaping her lips to match the one from Zouchouten's, except his is of course much deeper. And he matches her peak as well, filling her with his release as she groans and shakes, pounds herself down and pants in ecstasy. Finally it ends, and she collapses onto him like her bones have become limp noodles, which they might as well be for all the ability she has to hold herself up after an experience like that.

They just lie there, spent and contented, comfortable in this afterglow. He raises a hand to stroke her hair, shakily but tenderly, and she makes a murmured pleased noise and snuggles closer. This aftermath is always good, and it makes her feel even more connected to him, in a different way.

"Tell me again how you loved me in Tenkai," he whispers after a while. "That's something else I never get tired of. Of course, it always does make me wish we'd done things differently, but oh well."

"Ah, Zouchouten," Karura sighs, stroking his cheek. "It's the same with me. But here's the story again.

"From the time I was maybe ten in human years, I was attracted you in the way a girl is usually attracted to a handsome, kind, older man. I still can't believe you never picked up on that, by the way, but I remember being so upset when I heard you'd joined Taishakuten, because of course my father was firmly allied with Tentei for most of the war. But when it was all over, I was so relieved that you were not only alive, but would be his new commander, because that meant we would see each other more often.

"You were the first man I touched myself to, but I just always thought you'd never look at me as anything but your friend's daughter," she sighs, now hugging him. "And, you know, I wasn't really sure if it was love or just attraction. So when you asked me if I ever thought of marriage at that ball, I said I'd put it off as long as possible, because I firmly – stupidly – believed you were asking as a paternal friend, not a would-be lover."

"Well, I share some stupidity blame there as well," he feels the need to point out. "I should have made my intent clear first, or made it clear afterwards instead of just going, 'Oh,' and changing the subject – then blowing up a statue when I got home."

She laughs a bit at that, pats his ribcage, and then goes on, "And then, came the Six Stars. I would have stayed out of it, or tried to anyway, but then Taishakuten kidnapped poor Karyou. And when you stopped me from going after her, I was so angry, at you and at me too, for loving someone who I thought didn't really care for me. And when she died, you know, I didn't even register how upset you were, because I was so out of it. I didn't even realize that you were the one who loaded me onto that bird to fly home.

"And when you stepped in front of my attack… oh, I was so furious. But then I heard the servants saying you'd begged for my life, and I belatedly realized you'd saved me twice, doing that. I wanted to talk to you and confess everything, but again, I stupidly didn't," she mutters, rolling her eyes.

"You should have seen how despondent I was after I heard you'd supposedly committed suicide," he sighs dismally, stroking her hair some more. "When I saw Garuda, I felt like jumping for joy and screaming, 'She's alive!' at the top of my lungs. So I just did a happy dance once I got back home," he chuckles, and she chuckles along.

When she stops, she goes on, "And the rest was tragic. I was too obsessed, even though I began to get an inkling that you loved me when we were fighting. I mean, I was good but you were better, and you were definitely pulling your punches. But… if I'd known for certain, I would at least have told you I loved you before I charged to my death."

"Too many should-haves, would-haves, might-haves, for both of us," Zouchouten says quietly, holding his wife a little tighter. "But they don't matter anymore. We know we love each other now, and we will forever."

Karura nods and snuggles closer, telling him firmly, "Yes, forever. Belatedly, but _forever_."

.

"Here comes _Daddy! _Let's say, 'Hi, Daddy!' and stop crying," Kisshouten tries in an exceedingly upbeat voice the next morning, but little Mahnika keeps right on wailing.

"Hi, honey," Tenou tries in an equally upbeat voice, waving at his two-month old. "Hiiii!"

"AH-_WAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!_"

"She's not hungry, I bet," he guesses with a sigh, and Kisshouten shakes her head as she confirms, "She just finished nursing, and I just checked her diaper. It's something else, but Heaven alone knows what it is."

"Here, let me hold her," he gently urges, holding out his arms for the bawling baby. Kisshouten passes their daughter over, and fervently hopes this will work.

It was a huge surprise when she found out she was pregnant, but Mahnika is a joy. She's actually a comparatively quiet baby, with big, long-lashed brown eyes and wavy black hair. She _loves _to hear Kisshouten sing and play the piano, and when Kendappa plays the harp for her, she seems to sink into infant bliss. So Kendappa recorded a special CD of the harp with Kisshouten on piano and both of them singing, and Mahnika's parents often play it to calm her down.

Tenou is also very good at calming her down, often better than Kisshouten, which is kind of funny but there it is. He knows all sorts of useful tricks, which of course he shared with her, but she's not as skilled in their execution as he is. But it doesn't really matter, does it? And it warms the former princess's heart to see her husband crooning to their child, as Mahnika smiles at him or falls asleep in his arms.

And indeed, Tenou's magic touch proves true again, because as he bounces and sings to his daughter she calms down. Soon she's completely silent, smiling even, and Kisshouten giggles, "She's Daddy's little girl. Just like her mother."

"I wonder if Tentei can see this," Tenou whispers fondly, stroking his daughter's cheek. "Wherever he is. I hope he can, but I can't be sure if he'd be happy for us or furious that his daughter married his murderer's son."

"He'd be happy for us," Kisshouten insists with quiet conviction. "He'd know you're not your father."

Tenou wisely holds his tongue, despite wanting to say, "Well, he hated Kujaku for something he and Sonsei did." Kisshouten still firmly believes that Tentei was mostly good, and while he certainly wasn't _mostly_ evil, he was about half and half. Even Taishakuten merely ignored the son he didn't want, not locked him up and hurled abuse at him for being born, like Kujaku could help it. But on the other hand, if Taishakuten had found Tenou to be a threat, he would have killed his own son with a smile and no cares whatsoever, and that would have been even worse.

But you know what? Tenou's Tenkai parents are no longer a part of his life. While at first he wondered so much about Shashi, Kujaku had a little chat with him about her life with Bishamonten. Tenou would much, much rather cut out his Tenkai mother, as hard as it is, than associate with a man who so clearly wanted Kisshouten. Besides, two couples are happy this way, so why risk making all four of them miserable by forcing contact?

And besides… he has better, more demonstrative parents now, anyway.

Aimi and Kichirou have indeed come to accept Kisshouten, but it was slow going for a while. Their son and his wife decided to never mention the Tenkai angle, because they probably wouldn't be believed anyway. Which is too bad, because if they had been, it would have made it easier for Mr. and Mrs. Ouji to come to grips with the fact that Tenou is in love with an older woman. As it is, Kisshouten's kind nature and quiet declarations of love eventually won them over, and by now they defend her to acquaintances who make disparaging remarks.

So it's all good – or, at least, most of it is good. Tenou's grades are slipping due to his kid, Kisshouten's income has been reduced but luckily they have more than enough in savings to support them for a while, and nights are hard because Mahnika doesn't sleep for very long… but still. Compared to Tenkai, this life is a cakewalk. And modern society has many more supports and products for new parents than Tenkai did. Plus they have all sorts of old friends and new friends to buck them up and give advice.

Everybody's connected now, with the glaring exceptions of Bishamonten and Shashi. There was definitely some tension between Koumokuten and Kumaraten in particular, but Referee Kujaku has managed to smooth things over. Some of them will never be bosom buddies, but at least Souma no longer tries to kick Aguni's head off like she did when they first met.

It was kind of funny how Kujaku brought everybody together. He invited each couple over without telling them the others would be there, and told them to come at five-minute intervals. Tenou and Kisshouten were there first, and were not fazed at all by Souma and Kendappa – and then Karura and Zouchouten walked in the door. And just when everybody had been calming down, there came Kahra and Kumaraten. And after that, a horrified silence from three-fifths of those present as Koumokuten poked his head in and demanded, "What's with all the cars out front?"

Ah, Kujaku… he lives for his little pranks and jokes. And Yasha and Ashura, of course.

And he, Yasha, and Ashura are _excellent _uncles/cousin. Yasha loves babies, Kujaku can't get enough of them, and Ashura is simply fascinated by infants, there's no other word for it. He never actually saw one in Tenkai besides Tenou when they were born, and of course he doesn't remember that. Ashura is in awe of everything Mahnika does, and eager to learn and help. By now he could probably babysit her himself, but of course if the wrong agencies got wind of a seven-year-old left alone with an infant, both sets of parents would be in trouble.

"Ashura is going to come over on Saturday," Tenou croons to Mahnika, still bouncing her. "Won't that be _fun?_ Yes, yes it will! Fun fun fun!"

And now she's gurgling happily, of course with no idea what he's saying but responding to the tone. Her parents play with her for a while, until she starts yawning. Ah, naptime! Naptime is nice, because Daddy and Mommy get a break from constantly supervising Baby.

Tenou lays her on her back and she seems pleased by this, blinking up at the mobile as he happily sighs, "I am so, _so _glad my Tenkai father isn't around to make her cry for the fun of it. He did that numerous times to me, you know."

"I'm glad Tenkai is dead," Kisshouten whispers firmly, looking down at their daughter. "Tenkai was terrible for me, for more than half of my life. I'm happy we have no way to get back to it, and we broke away from our lives there. After all, I probably wouldn't have had you in Tenkai, sweetheart."

"You know, I don't think we ever _could _have fallen in – well, no, if Bishamonten had died and you had lived, and since Kendappa already turned me down, perhaps we would have gotten together then," he muses as he takes hold of her hand and leads her to the door. "I hope so, anyway. But either way it doesn't matter."

"No," she says firmly as she takes the lead now, tugging him to the piano room. "We made our choices, and we can't change the past. Think how awful the world would be if people could do that."

"So true," Tenou sighs, leaning against the piano as she sits down at it. Thank goodness rogue regimes can't change history!

"Drape yourself over the piano again as I play," she urges with an impish grin. "I get a kick out of that."

"Should I be shirtless and singing a lounge song like last time?" he asks with an equally impish grin, but hops on up as he continues, "I too get a kick out of turning couple stereotypes on their heads. We're alike in that respect."

Kisshouten laughs in agreement, then coquettishly urges, "Take your shirt off then! I never get tired of you like that. So _sexy_."

He agrees quite happily, in fact whirling and then throwing it over his shoulder in a dramatic display. Ha, Stripper Tenou! Wouldn't everybody else just stare in shock if they knew? Then again, they would stare in shock at some of Kisshouten's pre-baby lingerie, so it's best that everyone else thinks they're pretty inhibited. It's their little secret!

.

That night, Tenou's biological mother has a little secret too. She's bought herself a new negligee that barely qualifies as clothes, and she plans to spring it on Bishamonten. Yes Bishamonten, aren't you a lucky man? she thinks as she grins in anticipatory glee.

That's when her phone beeps insistently, telling her she has a text, and she pulls it out to see that it's from him. Ah, he's so good about communication, a far cry from Lord Ashura and Taishakuten. They never bothered to tell her anything, and maybe if they had, she might have been helpful in trying to avert the Schism of the Heavens. She certainly wouldn't have tried to kill Ashura if she'd known Taishakuten wanted him to live! Or she would have just aborted the little monster if she knew he was supposed to cause the end of the world, whichever. Both are good.

"I have something to show you when I get home, Your Majesty," her husband's text informs her, then ends with a heart.

"Your Majesty" is his pet name for her, and she gleefully calls him "Bishounen." Passersby on the street give them weird looks at the first one, and snicker behind their hands at the second one, but they just hold their heads high because they know what those nicknames signify. The level of comfort to give each other silly pet names… that's something neither would have expected in Tenkai, and would in fact have asked anyone who told them that, "Are you mad, or just trying to make a joke?"

"Oh, _fuck _Tenkai," she says aloud, pithy and rude yes, but with true emotion behind it. "This plane is so much better for me, and him too. Tenkai can go to hell, because I've got my Bishamonten here."

"Mrow?" comes Shizuka's curious meow, and Shashi scratches behind her ears as she soothingly murmurs, "You have no way of understanding, honey. All you can hope to understand is that you're hungry now, huh? Here, let Mommy feed you," she smiles as she walks off to the kitchen, and Shizuka trots after her with her tail up in excitement.

One serving of smelly cat food later, Shashi pets Shizuka as she eats, crooning, "Num-num-num! Yes, you eat that all up. You're losing weight, little old lady, and we want to keep you around for as long as we can. We love you, because you're our furry child."

She's spoiled. Well, Shashi is spoiled too! Bishamonten buys her all sorts of expensive and very nice tokens, makes her breakfast in bed sometimes, does half the household chores even though most Japanese husbands don't, and constantly praises her. But then again she makes little gestures like that too, the sort she never thought she'd want to do in Tenkai but that she finds surprisingly enjoyable now. Who knew being his slave for a day could be so fun? But it is of course better when she's in the power position, because that aspect of Shashi will never, ever change.

By the time Bishamonten pulls up in the garage, Shashi's managed to convince herself that he's bringing home jewelry. Ha-ha, yes! Give her her swag, devoted hubby! She loves showing it off and bragging about him, which makes her coworkers want to strangle her but hey, that's really nothing new. She eagerly looks out the back window, then frowns in confusion because that box is way too big for even a parure. Well… maybe it's _lingerie!_ No wait, it's too big for lingerie too…

Bishamonten opens the door very carefully, making sure not to drop the box. She just has time to notice that it has holes in the top, before he holds it out to her and grins, "Happy early birthday, Your Majesty!"

Shashi lifts off the top and peeks in the box, soon gasping in pleased surprise. A kitten! A gray longhair, with teeny-tiny white paws, and giant yellow-green eyes that look exceedingly confused. The kitten peers up at her and plaintively asks, "Mew?"

She can't help but laugh, stroking its little head with her left hand, the wedding band glinting in the light. "Is it a boy or girl?" she queries of Bishamonten, as the kitten leans into her strokes and starts to purr.

"She's a girl," Bishamonten reveals with a smile, lifting the tiny cat out. "The shelter said she's about two months old, and her mother was a stray who got hit by a car. Luckily someone had been feeding her, and collected the babies and brought them in. I know you said you wanted to wait to get another one, but I just thought, since I happened to be down near there, that this might make a good gift."

"She's precious," Shashi coos, scratching the little kitty under her chin as Bishamonten cradles her in his arms. "What should we name her? Ooh, I know," she smirks evilly. "Guess."

"Maybe… Kahra? Or Princess? Or Empress? Or…" He thinks for a moment, then has to admit, "I've run out of ideas, Shashi. Tell me what you think we should name her. I was going to go with 'Oruha,' but what do you think?"

"Saramah," she snickers in glee, "because it's such an oxymoron."

Now they both smirk evilly, because yes, it is. Those things were awful, devouring soldiers and little girls' bodies. But they were useful, and had a feral elegance that both Shashi and Bishamonten rather admired. For a moment he wonders what happened to them, if they escaped Zenmi when things fell apart or if they were trapped and died, and then decides that it doesn't matter.

"Saramah it is, then," he agrees as the supposed beast of the wild tries to eat his watch, miniature, needle-sharp fangs and a pink tongue working on the timepiece. Shizuka, who has been watching all this warily, saunters up to him and meows loudly, as if to say, "Let me see too!"

"This is Saramah, Shizuka," Bishamonten tells her seriously, holding the kitten at her level. "You're going to be nice to her, I hope."

"Mewr!" Saramah excitedly chimes in, squirming in his hands. Shizuka just stares at her for a second, then tentatively goes in to sniff at this new baby feline. Saramah keeps mewing but Shizuka is silent, until finally she makes a small half-grunt, half-meow and licks the kitten behind her left ear. No teeth, just tongue, and her tail is now waving slightly in interest.

"_Gooood _Shizuka," Bishamonten makes sure to praise, and Shashi joins in with, "Yes, what a good girl to be nice to the little one! We _like _Saramah."

They make sure to pet and talk to Shizuka too, because ignoring your older cat in favor of your new cat is a guaranteed way to foster resentment. Shizuka seems cautious around Saramah, but she follows the youngster around as she gambols all over the living room, once almost getting stuck behind the TV cabinet. Whoops, they should have kitten-proofed this house before bringing her in. Sometimes nice surprises should be thought out a little more.

Finally it's time to put Saramah in the basement by her very own litter box, and so far she seems to be too busy exploring to care that her people are going away. This room they did hastily kitten-proof, so hopefully she'll be fine. She has food, water, and toys, so she's got everything she needs.

As Shashi shuts the door behind them, she titters, "And this way if she yowls, we can't hear her and reinforce it by responding! We're so smart."

"We are so smart," Bishamonten proudly agrees, slipping an arm around his wife's waist. "We wouldn't be where we are if we'd been stupid, after all."

"I've got a smart idea," Shashi says with exaggerated cheer. "Let's put on some music and dance in the living room again!"

And so they do. She's of course not wearing heels, but they've done this enough that she's not too disoriented. With the shades pulled down so the neighbors can't spy in, they ballroom dance right in their house, both of them thankful that the living room is so big. Well, actually, the whole thing is so big.

"Do you remember when we danced in Tenkai?" he asks her with a grin. "You know, because we were expected to dance together sometimes, as the queen and the head of the Four Gods? And we faked smiles and took any excuse we could to change partners? Except, of course, when Koumokuten was next to us," Bishamonten smirks in amusement.

Shashi rolls her eyes and irritably sighs, "Well can you blame me, honey? No sane woman would want to dance with that ugly loser if she could help it."

"Well, Aguni would."

"Aguni isn't sane, she's a nutjob," is Shashi's smug response to that, and Bishamonten honestly can't disagree. So he says nothing as they dance some more, just smiles and gazes into her eyes like he never wants to look away.

Oh, Shashi… so the same and so different, in some fundamental ways for each. And it's funny that some of the things he used to hate about her the most in Tenkai are things he now loves in Tokyo. Her power-hungry personality – he finds this admirable, especially since she's won the mayor's election for Nakano-ku, and she's aiming even higher. Her sexy outfits – well hey, yay, boobs! Her scathing wit – when it's not directed at him, she can make him laugh hysterically because he finds mean humor hilarious.

_You're so astounding, _he thinks fondly. _Thank gods you began to have your Tenkai dreams, or we'd be lonely, unhappy beings. We definitely suffered, justifiably I'm sure, but we came out of it stronger and better people. We'll never be noble heroes, but at least we aren't monsters anymore._

Taishakuten's dog takes hold of Lord Ashura's betrayer's chin, and guides their lips together for a heartfelt kiss. She kisses back, wrapping her arms around his neck, still swaying in time to the music as he does the same. And this is what it's all about, isn't it? Love, love and happiness. The mayor's seat is a perk, the new kitten is another perk, the jewelry and money are nice too, but they honestly would be able to get along in life if they were paupers and only had each other. But of course that doesn't mean they wouldn't take the chance to make themselves some moolah if it came up.

"I really would live on the streets with you," he murmurs wholeheartedly after they part, one of his hands on her waist slipping to a mighty fine rear, especially for a woman in her forties.

"Bishie!" she mock-scolds, frowning comically. "Are you being bad again? Is Queen Shashi going to have to punish you the way you like to be punished?" she asks with an incorrigible, perverted grin.

"Well if Queen Shashi feels like dishing out some enjoyable domination, this humble general certainly isn't going to say 'no,' " Bishamonten replies with a smirk that's equally pervy. "Just not right here, darling, because rug burns aren't sexy. We learned that the hard way."

"Carry me upstairs then, oh enthralled slave," she commands imperiously, hooking a leg around him. "Your empress demands it!"

"And I obey. I love obeying people stronger than me."

.

The next morning, Souma and Kendappa are feeding each other breakfast, something they do all the time. It helps make breakfast far more interesting, because let's face it, breakfasts often consist of sitting around chewing because you're still waking up. Souma, however, is definitely a morning person, and she's usually up an hour before Kendappa is, making something nice for them to eat. Kendappa never has boring breakfasts anymore with Souma around!

Kendappa and Souma _always _wear their treasured necklaces with each other's colors, except in the shower or when they're asleep. They do sometimes leave them on for sex though! Forget the wedding rings, _these _items of jewelry really bind them together.

Kendappa fiddles with Souma's necklace, an intimate and slightly possessive gesture, then casually asks, "So what will you do about that jerk who keeps raiding your garden?"

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do," Souma mutters firmly, her eyes flashing with anticipatory anger. "I'm going to sleep out there in a sleeping bag where I can't be seen, and you know how I can wake up at the slightest sound. When that thief – or group of thieves, I suppose – comes around again, I'm going to confront them. I will get one on the ground, take his wallet out, memorize his name, and report him to the police. And if he throws a punch, well… he'll be taught a valuable lesson not to mess with other people's herbs."

"Defend your crops, oh tiller of the soil," Kendappa commands in a dead-on impression of a deep-voiced official, then winks and goes back to her normal voice with, "I hope he does throw a punch, just so you can wail on him. I mean, what's wrong with people, that they think they can just take what someone else spent time and money on?"

Souma sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose, and testily mutters, "I don't know. But I'm sort of hoping for a fight too. Physical reinforcement works much better for teaching people a lesson than words they don't want to listen to, or even a fine."

"Kick him in the balls," Kendappa suggests in a merry tone. "Then he'll _really _think twice about messing with you."

Souma shakes her head and holds up a finger as she cautions, "We're assuming it's a man. It could very well be a woman! We both know women aren't automatically saints."

"Boy, do we," Kendappa sighs a bit glumly, then changes the subject with an exceedingly obvious, "But I sure like voicing villainesses. They're more fun than peppy girly girls, no contest! Of course, this latest role is far from Yoko-chan even if she is the heroine."

"Voicing Amaterasu herself," Souma says proudly, patting Kendappa's shoulder. "If you don't win some awards for that one, you should. And I mean, it's a Kokubunji Minoru production and those are always quality, and this story is so good anyway!"

"Eh, it's a good story, but no fictional epic can ever hope to match up to _our _story," Kendappa replies, putting a fond hand on Souma's arm. "I mean seriously babe, it's like an opera. A really, really depressing and tragic opera, until the final third act."

"You know what?" Souma whispers, turning Kendappa's face to hers. "I don't care anymore. Right now, I care about you eating your breakfast, because it's getting cold!"

"Yes Mother," Kendappa smirks in a teasing manner, then eats her eggs with exaggerated movements.

Domesticity, something they never had the chance to engage in on their first plane. Oh sure, Souma would lovingly brush Kendappa's hair, but they never cooked together, or made a bed together, or took a bubble bath together. Kendappa never soothed Souma as she lay in bed moaning with the flu, because the ninja never fell that ill. Souma never vacuumed around Kendappa engrossed in a book. They never lent each other clothes to wear – that would have been hilarious, Kendappa in the all-black warrior clothes attempting to throw the moon leaves, and Souma in the royal musician's clothes that were far too flowing to be of much use in battle.

But here they are wives, although the government says they are just friends who live together, no legal claim on each other. If Kendappa died without a will, her possessions would pass to her closest living relative – Renji, the monster father she hates with all her heart. That's why they drew up wills as soon as they could, but even so, if one of them is hospitalized the other will not be admitted in as a partner. And if one is on life support, the other can't be the person to choose whether to free her beloved's soul or keep hoping for a miracle.

Fuck you, "glorious" conservative nation of Japan. Maybe they really should move to gay-rights Nepal, it was so nice when they visited.

But no, they have friends here, friends who will fight for them, friends who lend their voices to the call for same-sex rights. Even Aguni does that, which makes Kendappa wonder what she's up to and Souma just be surprised. Well, perhaps her husband thinks lesbians are hot, and Aguni's scary-devoted to that creep.

Once Kendappa's finished her eggs and drunk her tea, she helps Souma clean up with a proud smile. Man, she was so spoiled back in Tenkai, she had servants to do this. Servants would still be nice, but with someone you love working beside you, it's not as annoyingly tedious as doing it all yourself.

"Hey," she grins with a giggle in her voice when they're finished, "we have about an hour before I have to go to work. Care to join me in the shower, oh black blossom of mine?"

Souma tilts her head and eyes her speculatively, then says in mock-serious tones, "But you know how our showers last for longer than an hour, or at least until the hot water runs out! You're going to have to up your incentives."

Kendappa grins in a particularly pervy manner and offers, "A bath, then? I know you like baths better. A bath with a back rub and me singing your praises? I wrote a new song just yesterday!" she reveals in a wheedling tone, going so far as to clasp her hands and beseechingly flutter her eyelashes.

Souma pretends to consider incredibly hard, her face rumpled with exaggerated effort, then can no longer keep it up and laughs, "You've got yourself a deal, my lady!"

And so they do take a bath, rose-scented bubbles floating all around, warm water up to their sternums and the bubbles almost up to their breasts. Kendappa sits behind Souma, the taller woman reclining and leaning her head back against her lover's chest, as Kendappa washes Souma's hair first with a contented smile. Such pretty hair, and it fits Souma's personality so well. And it's soft, silky, heaven to run her fingers lovingly through.

Ah… it should have always been like this, filled with spoken love and tender actions.

.

That evening, Agamya is humming along to the radio as he drives to Kumaraten's house, occasionally bursting into song and almost always mangling the lyrics. But who cares? No one else is around to hear his ear-bleeding singing, and even if they were, hey, he's elderly so they'd all smile and say nothing. Sometimes it's good to be in the twilight of your life, in this part of the world at least.

_I wonder if I sang in Tenkai, during those tragic three centuries? _he wonders as he pulls up in front of the Haka family's house. _Or did it annoy Kumaraten too much, and I only did it when I was alone?_

Agamya knows all of it, and believes it too. He will never remember while he lives, but he is wise enough to realize that he doesn't have to. Once he dies he will recall his past life in the underground realm, but for now, he simply likes to listen to the stories Kumaraten and Kahra tell, as depressing as they might be. But Agamya no longer has to worry that dwelling on sorrowful things will send Kumaraten into a tailspin, because now he's got the support and happiness he craved so badly.

Some days, sure, he feels down and can't put his finger on why, but with Kahra and his children, he's able to pull himself out of it before it gets really dangerous. He smiles and laughs so much more, like she never got to see him do in Tenkai, but she believes him when he tells her that was how he was before the Holy War came knocking. And oh, how she had wanted to see him truly happy. Now that she does, she loves him more than she ever thought possible.

Agamya slowly totters up the walk, once again wondering if it's time to get a cane, but shakes it off as he rings the doorbell. Two identical voices crying, "I got it!" can be heard, along with two pairs of eager racing feet. Ah, those twins sure do like to compete, don't they?

A thudding ruckus can be heard on the other side of the door, before Kane hotly protests, "Kumara, I got here _first!_"

"No, we got here at the _same time!_"

Silence for a few tense beats as their great-great-uncle waits with interest, until Kane graciously gives in with, "Okay, we did. So you can go ahead and open the door. But next time we tie, it's my turn, all right?"

"All right! That's fair."

Agamya beams at this example of mature compromise, ever so proud of the kiddos. Ah, they're growing up! He swears they get taller every time he comes over, and he comes over a lot. That or time moves faster as you get older, whichever.

The door swings open and the boys grin at him in excited welcome. They are simply adorable, there's no other term for it: chubby brown cheeks even plumper when they smile, wide pretty eyes looking at him with warmth and fond welcome, wavy green hair falling into said eyes because they get to keep it long like Daddy's. They idolize Kumaraten, even more than Kahra because he's male like them, and while they certainly love their mother fiercely their father is the one they attempt to emulate in every way.

_We'll just see how long that lasts into the teenager years, _Agamya thinks with a little internal smirk, then throws his arms open and enthusiastically greets, "There's my nephews! Give your old uncle a _gentle _hug."

"Yes, don't knock poor Uncle Agamya over again," Kahra reminds them with a smile as they obey his command. She comes into sight with the newest member of the family in her arms – Bakulam, a baby girl who has her mommy's shining golden hair but her daddy's stormy blue eyes.

Once "poor Uncle Agamya" is inside, Kumaraten comes to embrace him with a warm, "It's so good to see you, Uncle. The boys were practically bouncing off the walls as they waited for you to get here."

"We were _not_," is Kane's scornful reply, in the tones of oblivious certainty that only children can pull off. "We weren't bouncing off the walls, or jumping around on the couch, or whatever, Daddy! We were just _running _around and being excited!"

"YEAH! _Excited!_" Kumara chips in, and at all this energy Bakulam starts to make those little "I'm not happy" noises, even as Kahra frantically bounces her.

"Boys, calm down," Kumaraten pleads, but fondly and with no real desperation. "You're going to make your little sister cry again."

"Sorry," Kumara immediately and fervently apologizes, but Kane rolls his eyes and mutters in a "duh" tone, "Daddy, she cries no matter how quiet we are."

Kumaraten thinks on that for a minute, then has to admit in a sigh, "That's true, because I know you two can be very quiet and she still cries. But that doesn't mean you should encourage her by getting her all agitated. Why don't we – why don't we all read a book?" he suggests with a persuasive smile.

"I want to pick it out!" Agamya proclaims with a grin, striding over to the mammoth bookshelf. "As the oldest one here, I should get some perks."

Kane nods with an eager smile, but Kumara whines, "Uncle Agamya, I don't want any more of the Kokin Wakashu! I can't understand most of the fancy words!"

"I wasn't going to pick that one, wonderful as it is," the Old One loftily sniffs. "How about… aha! Hara the Hamster Hops to Hokuto! Isn't the cover just so _precious?_" he sighs pleasantly, turning the book so everyone can see the googly-eyed protagonist – wearing clothes and a hat of course.

"Yes," Kahra and Kumara reply with happy expressions, even as Kane groans, "No," and Kumaraten forces a smile.

Ugh, this big-headed, big-eyed mania… he never liked it even as a kid, and now as a man who remembers fabulous Tenkai art, he loathes it even more. But to bond with his family, he'll swallow down his dislike and pretend to be really into the book he used to have memorized, Kumara liked it so much. Kane too, before he became concerned with not being a "baby," and Kumaraten has the sneaking suspicion that his slightly older son will drop that "big boy" demeanor and get just as into the story as his brother.

The family all settles down on the couch, Kahra _forced _to sit on Kumaraten's lap while she holds their daughter. They exchange conspiratorial grins that nobody else sees, because the boys are riveted by Agamya opening the book and beginning, "Hara the Hamster was a happy, _hoppy _hamster, who had a hat and hated holly…"

_Bliss, _Kahra thinks as she closes her eyes and smiles in contentment. _But don't we deserve bliss, after everything we went through?_

_._

Ashura is expertly loading the dishwasher, something a regular child rarely does voluntarily, but he's not a regular child, is he? He whistles one of Kendappa and Kisshouten's songs as he neatly fits plates and glasses in, more than content to be helping so Yasha and Kujaku can spend a little time alone together. He certainly gives them that often, but he really can't handle it for too long. He never did grow out of that desperate need for companionship, even though he did finally conquer the patently untrue notion of being unwanted.

_I know I'm wanted, _he thinks contentedly. _And if I hadn't been so insecure and been a little more mature, I would've realized that I was blessed with many people who wanted and sacrificed for me: Gigei, Ryuu, Souma, Karura, Rasetsu, Shara, and of course Kujaku and Yasha. So who cares about Shashi now, really? She was a bitch, and I probably would've hated growing up with her. I don't know how Tenou did it, given the stories everybody tells._

"Oh Tenou," Ashura grins fondly, shaking his head, "it boggles my mind that you became such a nice person, given genetics and environment. Heck, even Rasetsu likes you! It really is too bad we can never tell him anything about Tenkai," the boy sighs in dismay, turning a glass upside-down and finding room for it.

Alas, poor Rasetsu is not a member of the "I Remember Tenkai!" Club, much as it pains his family to watch it. They swore everybody else to secrecy, which is easy for the Hakas, easy for the Tsuki-Kotos, easy for the Yusakus, easy for the Oujis – and a source of continual inside references and maddening half-hints to the Kuros whenever they interact with the poor man.

_Geez, Koumokuten… why do you have to __like__ making people irritated? _Ashura mentally grouses as he goes for more plates. _I don't know what Ms. Scary sees in you._

Out in the living room, Kujaku's standing behind Yasha's chair with his arms looped around him, as the writer attempts to sketch out The Rain Is Turning to Snow, the sequel to the award-winning and best-selling The Rain Is Warm. You wanna talk big-bucks royalties? _Nine million copies sold_, and it's only been ten months since it was published! It's been translated into more languages than Yasha can remember, and though of course you lose some of the wordplay in translation, the book is performing very well in the overseas markets.

Movie studios, needless to say, are knocking at the door, but Yasha's not sure if he wants to give up the rights. You lose almost all of the wordplay with a film adaptation, and who's to say the screenwriters won't screw with the plot, or the actors cast will look anything like the characters Yasha and Kujaku described? If they trust their baby to a studio, it had better be a good one and they'd better have a hefty amount of creative control.

"Kujaku," Yasha sighs a bit irritably, "can you not do that? I'm trying to somehow bridge the hotel sex scene to the murder scene."

"I think," Kujaku suggests innocently, "that you might have to do some research to make sure those sex scenes are believable. You can turn the recorder on for some real-life dialogue, and we can give a blow-by-blow account of what we're doing. Like, 'His strong hands, manly and capable of delivering a knockout punch, were gentle as they roved over his lover's super-sexy abs.' "

Yasha emits a most inelegant snort, then replies, "It's award-winning fiction, not literary porn, Kujaku. It has to be toned down a bit. And yes, I know what you said was acceptable, but I _know _you'll get explicit if we record a private moment."

"Well, you're a wordsmith, you can tone it down as you write it," Kujaku reminds him with a little smirk, tugging a strand of his hair. "Just go with, 'Hiro proceeded to arouse Shou further by saying things so erotic, the taller man was hard-pressed to keep his control.' See? That's perfectly acceptable."

"I think so!" Ashura chirps from the doorway, then winks and enthusiastically adds, "Just use 'manhood,' 'sex,' and 'shaft' instead of more explicit words for male genitals, and it's all good."

"Oh, it's still so weird to hear you talk like an adult while you've got that kid's body and high voice," Kujaku snickers as he flaps a hand, making Ashura roll his eyes and grumpily mutter, "You should know how it feels, though. Did you get so fricking sick of simple math problems and reading assignments too?"

"Um, _yeeeah_," Kujaku whines with exaggerated immaturity, making his son giggle and Yasha sigh in annoyance.

Kujaku goes back to a normal tone as he continues, "And you know what I learned? Parents don't listen to their kids when the kid has a valid point. I had to eat some of the most disgusting health food imaginable, and I would try to politely tell them, 'Mom and Dad, this kale and beet smoothie makes me feel like I'm gonna hurl,' and they'd insist, 'Drink it all, little Kujie! You'll learn to like the taste.' But the taste just got worse, until I actually _did _hurl."

"Poor Kujaku," Ashura laments in commiseration, getting up on his tiptoes to pat Kujaku's shoulder. "But did you hear that, Yasha? Health food is evil!"

Yasha shakes his head and loftily sniffs, "No, health food is wonderful. But you two are so addicted to sugar and salt that you can't appreciate the natural, delicious flavors of the foods that will lengthen your life, not shorten it."

"But isn't it cool how we have to worry about that?" Kujaku replies with a grin. "I'll take high blood pressure over demons, homicidal enemies, and genocide any day! If it's a choice between candy bars and Taishakuten, I'll throw myself into the pile of candy bars."

Yasha can't help but admit that Kujaku has a point, but also can't help adding, "Candy bars are still bad for you."

"What-_ever!_" Kujaku chortles, gently whapping Yasha on the head. "We live in a free country, and if I choose to eat sugar and fats, that's my right as a Japanese citizen! Power to the people!" he proclaims as he fist-bumps the giggling Ashura, and now Yasha shakes his head in resigned despair.

_I swear, I live with two children, _he thinks as he walks into the kitchen to eat some carrot sticks, just to prove a point.

But that's part of Kujaku's charm, and it's helpful to have a partner who balances out Yasha's personality. And Yasha's laughing a whole lot more these days. Come to think of it, he doesn't think he laughed at all from the time Taishakuten gave the order to kill Kuyou, to when Seiryuu made Ashura guffaw with an over-the-top Hakuryuu impression. Goodness… how inexpressibly depressing. Maybe he's making up for all that now.

As Yasha eats his healthy food, the point negated because the other two are paying no attention whatsoever, Kujaku crosses to the window of this mighty fine mansion, the one perched on a hill in a suburb and protected by a very advanced security system. Kujaku and Ashura have picked up some bare-hands fighting tricks from Souma and Yasha knew them already, but when you're this attractive of a target, it's best to have extra protection.

_Who else is here? _Kujaku wonders as he stares out the window. _I know of many who weren't part of my mission, but are here anyway. If people like Grumpy Ryuu and Kuyou are here, I hope I get to meet them. If they're not, I hope they're happy in the afterlife, and I'll see them soon enough._

"What are you thinking of, Kujaku?" Yasha's voice asks as his hand makes contact, then two arms wrap Kujaku in a hug from behind. "Or are you simply watching an animal?"

"Nah, no animals. I'm just contemplating mortality, and wondering if any other of our friends – or enemies – are on this plane. But we might never know. I'd like to think we'll meet them, but who says we're all just in Tokyo, huh? For all we know, Ryuu and his family are in – Russia!" Kujaku decides with a grin and a nod, picturing Ryuu wearing the stereotypical Cossack gear in a blizzard. Poor kid, he hates snow.

Yasha sighs dismally, "I hope not. Russia is a terrible place to be right now, if you're even the slightest bit out of Putin's norm. Somehow I think if Ryuu, his cousins, and his parents are in Russia, they're being monitored for their 'subversive' activities like free speech, promoting gay rights, and criticizing a corrupt and plutocratic regime."

"Yeah," Kujaku says softly, and then there are no more words, they just hold each other. Yasha and Kujaku, the reserved yet caring warrior and the goofy yet hurt stargazer, the blind but talented author and the creatively sneaky former jack of all trades. Here they are, together, just like they were always meant to be. Just like most everybody else was always meant to be.

_Kumaraten and Kahra have the children they wanted in Tenkai, and most importantly each other, _Kujaku thinks as he leans his head back against his man. _Karura made Zouchouten remember with a kiss, and never left his side again. Souma saved Kendappa's life, and made her be who she was always intended to be. Tenou and Kisshouten can laugh now instead of crying, and always be with someone who understands. Koumokuten found Aguni after losing her twice, and bound himself to her at his family's expense. Shashi made a choice she never would have in Tenkai, and gave Bishamonten what no one else ever had from her before._

_And I… I fell down stairs and helped write a novel, and Yasha made me the happiest man alive. Despite the Brussels sprouts he made me eat once, ew. Ashura has his real family, and we have the little piggy who we'll never have to worry will destroy the world, because that Ashura is gone forever._

_Fifteen__ people, fifteen heroes and villains and victims, have finally gotten what we all, secretly, wanted more than anything else in the world: someone to really love. So thanks Bhagavaana, and I gotta say… the afterlife is going to __rock__._

**End**

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(AN: "Sahen" means "falcon" in Sanskrit, "Bakulam" means "blossom" in Sanskrit, "Mahnika" means "ruby" in Sanskrit, and "Kaen" means "flame" in Japanese. Everybody's adding to the overflow of humanity on this planet!

Please review this, it's the polite thing to do after you read. Hated it? Please tell me why so I can try to make subsequent fics more to your liking. Loved it? Tell me why too, so I can keep doing things you like. Somewhere in between? Ditto. Mountains of thanks to Juan Pujol Garcia and Tata [on another site], the only people nice enough to give me feedback at the time of this posting. This fandom seems to take delight in crushing author's spirits by ignoring them when they beg for feedback… or ignoring their efforts all together, as happened to a shocking extent on this one. So even if you read this years after I posted it, it would really mean a lot of you gave some feedback.

For my next major "RG Veda" fic [I want to finish one for two other fandoms first], I'll be working on "Tenkai City" Version 2, since I loved that universe but look back on the writing and plot holes and cringe. So check it out, but only if you're eighteen or over because it'll be NC-17. You'll be able to eventually find it in the "RG Veda" section of Archive of Our Own.

I've also begun a sequel to "Fourteen People," dealing with Ryuu, Hakuryuu, Seiryuu, Vahyu, Varuna, Hanranya, Taishakuten, Lord Ashura, Kuyou, Rasetsu, Shara, Tamara, and Gigei. It'll be a long time until I finish "Thirteen Souls," though.)


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